Lobby No. 2, one of the most popular bars in Juarez, the bar in the front of the building, and the cabaret directly back of it, quite a large dance floor, with a band stand at the farthest end, and surrounded on three sides with tables, and every table filled with every specie of the human race, some drunk, some more drunk, and some blind drunk.
"Hello, there, Ev," greeted the bartender. "How's the old girl tonight?"
"I'm fine, Henry—I want you to meet a girl friend of mine. This is Pearl."
"Hi, Pearl, what will you and Ev have to drink?"
"I think I'll have Rock and Rye, and a big slug of it—Ev, speed up, you're holding up the parade."
"Whiskey, my darlings—Hey, Harry—you damn good-looking bastard—come over here, I got a girl friend I want you to know."
"Why, hello, Ev—I haven't seen you in days, or I mean nights. Where have you been?" greeted Harry Hicks, a tall blonde young man of about twenty-three, who was the Master of Ceremonies of the floor show.
"Harry, this is Pearl—Pearl, this is Harry." Evelyn poured down her whiskey without further ado.
"How do you do," said Harry, as he offered his hand.