"I'm very sure of a welcome there," Bedient explained. "My old friend Captain Carreras had Room 50, from time to time for so many years, that I fell into it with his other properties. Besides, all the pirates, island kings and prosperous world-tramps call at the Marigold. And then, they say—the best dinner——"
"That's a tradition of the Forty-niners——"
"I have no particular reason for staying down there, even if I keep the room. I'll do that for the Captain's sake…. I'm not averse to breezing around up-town."
"Ah——" came softly from Cairns.
"I'd like to know some folks," Bedient admitted.
Cairns was smiling at him. "You'll have to have a card at my clubs. There's Teuton's, Swan's and the Smilax down Gramercy way…. Perhaps we'd better stop in at the Swan's for a bite to eat. The idea is, you can try them all, Andrew, and put up at the one you fit into best——"
"Exactly," breathed Bedient.
"You won't like the Smilax overmuch," Cairns ventured, "but you may pass a forenoon there, while I'm at work. Stately old place, with many paintings and virgin silence. The women artists are going there more and more——"
"I like paintings," said Bedient.
They walked across Times Square and toward the Avenue, through
Forty-second. Cairns waited for the quiet to ask: