He understood at once, and made a remark to Dudley in a low tone, at which the dapper young man shrugged his shoulders.
“What do you drink, Thornton?” asked Carrington as the waiter stood by expectantly. “You can have anything you want, but this house is particularly noted for its imported ales. I’ll order a bottle for you.”
“I’m sorry,” Vance hastened to say, “but I really don’t drink anything.”
“What!” exclaimed Sid, a slight cloud forming on his brow, while Miss Miller looked up in great surprise.
“That’s right,” interposed Dudley. “He doesn’t touch anything in that line. I found that out to-day at the Criterion. You’ll take coffee, however, won’t you, Vance?”
Vance nodded.
“A bottle of your XXX ale, waiter, and a cup of coffee for this gentleman,” said Guy Dudley briskly.
The attendant bowed and departed.
“So you really don’t drink?” said Miss Miller with an artful smile. “This is quite a surprise to me, for I thought every gentleman indulged in something or other. Now, couldn’t I prevail on you to take just a thimbleful of this light Madeira? As a special favor, with me, you know?”
She favored Vance with an arch look as she filled two small wineglasses with the amber liquid, as if to imply it was an honor she was especially according him.