"Oh, sure, that will be all right! Let's go over to the Palace cafeteria; that's a nice place and they got tables for ladies."
He escorted her into the lunchroom, and took off his hat when he sat down. The numerous unaccompanied men in the place wore their hats.
"Let's have some of that ox-tail braise," he suggested. "It's nice here. It's made out of the tail of an ox."
"Maybe," she said. "We have it in our house on Mondays, ox-tail soup—my mother makes it out of the neck of a chicken!"
They laughed. "Two ox-tail braises," ordered Paul.
"Listen," he said, after they had exchanged introductions, "An uncle of mine died, and left me a big fortune!"
"You always have a new one, Mr. Manley," she said with expectant smile. "Well, go ahead and spring it."
"Spring what?"
"The joke! Or am I supposed to ask something? Who is your uncle, or what did he die of, or something like that? I'm awful slow, Mr. Manley."
"This ain't a joke. Well, it is a kind of a joke, too. Read over this letter, and then I'll tell you about it."