"Jees, am I gonna get drunk tonight—make it another pint, Henry—pronto," yelled Evelyn.
Pearl and Harry were wrapped in each other's arms, conscious of nothing around them, living for the night only.
The States Cafe, the rendezvous for the continuation of the gaiety after one has come on the American side, not a large place by any means, but serving good food, with no hindrance whatsoever for the noise and ribaldry of the crowd, and took no notice of the bottles of straight American whiskey that appeared as if by magic out of the ladies' bosoms, where they had been concealed while in Juarez. The crowd had just begun to come in when Evelyn and Pearl arrived.
"Let's get a booth, Ev, and save a seat for Harry, as he ought to be here soon."
"Sure, grab a booth—but there is no need of saving a seat for Harry, he's already here," said Evelyn, as Harry put his arms around Pearl from behind.
"Oh, Harry, dear, I had no idea you would be here so soon," said Pearl, happily, "Sit here, dear."
"What's the matter with you, Ev," asked Harry, "haven't you a boy friend tonight?"
"Yeah, I've had a boy friend for the past twenty-four hours, but he's up in my room, trying to sober up enough to go home. He is a louse to his wife—but—damn—he's good to me. He paid my rent for a month, and opened me a charge account at the White House, and gives me twenty bucks a month."