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"Ought to be at four fifty a quart. Well, we'll take a chance." Served it in a silver bucket, too. It had the familiar pop, and the bubbles showed plain in the hollow stemmed glasses, but you could drink a gallon of it without feelin' inspired to do anything wilder than call for a life preserver. The roof garden girl-show that we went to afterwards was a zippy performance, after it's kind.
An old bachelor has got the right to sit closer to a girl-show than a married man." They drew up before a small table edging a shining area of reserved floor space and only once removed from the burnt-orange curtains. "A-ha!" exuded Mr. Samuel Kahn, his rather strongly aquiline face lifted in profile. "A-ha!" exuded Mr. Loeb, smiling out of eyes ten years younger. "What'll you have, Sam?"
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