"Don't this place have but the one waiter for all these people?" asked Pearl.
"Just the one dear; Frank is his name, and he takes his time, but he's a good scout—wait, I'll go and get you some water—gee, but you are sweet. Boy—oh—boy, I'd love to cut you," said Harry, as he kissed her on the ear and went for the water.
"Good Lord, Ev, did you hear what he said—he must be a sadist."
"No, I think Harry's Irish."
"But he said he would love to cut me."
"Well, dear, that expression has more definitions than the one you happen to know," said Evelyn. "My God, look who's here—if it ain't Mickey and Betty—for the love of Heaven, where have you two been for the past rear-end of the week?"
Betty and Mickey came over to the table, hellos and greetings were very much in order, loud, noisy, raucous, but good natured was the dirty banter that passed to and fro among the crowd. Finally they left Pearl and Evelyn, but not until they made Pearl promise to pay them a visit, then they squeezed into a booth with four other people, but where they could still see everybody, and shout ribald songs of the border at the top of their voices.
"What is the matter with Mickey's face? Why, Ev, she looks like she had been through nine wars, and fought them all herself. I've never seen so many scars."