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It's the first thirty minutes of your time I've asked in five years, Kess is that little enough? Let Cissie show Keokuk the blouses till we get back. It's something, Kess, I can't put off. Kess, please!" Her face was so close to him and so eager that he turned to back out. "Wait for me at the Thirty-first Street entrance," he said, "and I'll shoot you across to Rinehardt's."
Leon Kessler, crowningly touched with the correct thing in straw sailors. "Get a move on," he said, guiding her across the soft asphalt. In Rinehardt's, one of a thousand such Rathskeller retreats designed for a city that loves to dine in fifteen languages, the noonday cortege of summer widowers had not yet arrived.
You put me off yesterday and the day before, and this this is the last." "The last what?" "Please, Kess, if you only run over to Rinehardt's with me. I got to tell you something. Something about me and and " He regarded her in some perplexity. "Tell it to me here. Now!" "I can't. The girls'll be swarming in any minute. I can't get you anywheres but lunch.
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