"Adam sure put it over on us, didn't he?"
"Still nursing that grievance over your sex," laughed Dave. "I thought you would outgrow it."
"I don't blame him," continued the girl, ignoring his interruption. "I am just getting back from forty-seven teas. Gabble, gabble, gabble. I don't blame him. We deserve it."
"Then you have had nothing to eat?"
"Almost. Only insignificant indigestibles."
Dave pressed a button, and a Chinese boy (all male Chinese are boys) entered, bowing in that deference which is so potent to separate the white man from his silver. The white man glories in being salaamed, especially by an Oriental, who can grovel with a touch of art. And the Oriental has not been slow to capitalize his master's vanity.
"Bring something to eat. Go out for it, and be quick. For two."
"Ice cleam? Toast? Tea—"
"No! Something to eat! Soup, flied chicken, hot vegetables, dessert, everything."
"You've had your dinner, surely?" asked Bert.