"Mrs. Lesengeld," he said, "would you believe me, it's so long since I tasted that stuff I didn't remember such a thing exists even."
"And do you like it?" Mrs. Lesengeld repeated.
"Do I like it!" Scharley cried. "Um Gottes Willen, Mrs. Lesengeld, I love it."
"Then sit right down," she said heartily. "Everything is ready."
"If you don't mind, Mr. Scharley," Williams interrupted, "I'll wait for you at the office of the company. It's only a couple of hundred yards down the beach."
"Go as far as you like, Mr. Williams," Scharley said as he tucked a napkin between his collar and chin. "I'll be there when I get through."
After Mrs. Lesengeld had ushered out Mr. Williams, she proceeded to the door of the rear room and knocked vigorously.
"Don't be foolish, Yetta, and come on out," she called. "It ain't nobody but an old friend of my husband's."
A moment later Yetta entered the room, and Scharley scrambled to his feet, a knife grasped firmly in one hand, and bobbed his head cordially.
"Pleased to meetcher," he said.