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Updated: June 20, 2025
First off there was a waiters' strike on the roof-garden restaurant where most of the tenants took their dinners. It happened between soup and fish. In fact, the fish never got there at all. Nor the roast, nor the rest of the meal. And the head waiter and the house manager had a rough-and-tumble scrap right in plain sight of everybody and some perfectly awful language was used.
"I think you are queer," said Boswell. "Well, I am not," said I. "However low we may set the standard of man, Mr. B." and I called him Mr. B. instead of Jim, because I wished to be severe and yet retain the basis of familiarity "however low we may set the standard of man, I think man as a rule prefers his home to the most seductive roof-garden life in existence." "Wherefore?" said he, coldly.
Moreover, there is little danger up here of being slugged by our moth-eaten acquaintance of this afternoon. We shall probably find him waiting for us at the main entrance with a black-jack, but till then " He turned with gentle grace to his soup. It was a warm night, and the roof-garden was full. From where they sat they could see the million twinkling lights of the city.
Within one story up above the courtyard din in a spacious, richly decorated room that gave on to a gorgeous roof-garden, the Maharajah sat and let himself be fanned by women, who were purchasable for perhaps a tenth of what any of the fans had cost.
"Saturday night?" Rachael said to Warren. "Possibly not, dear. I can tell better later in the week." "You don't know how we slaves envy you, Rachael!" Magsie said. "When Greg and I are gasping away in some roof-garden, having our mild little iced teas, we'll think of you down here on the glorious ocean!" "We're a mutual consolation league!" Warren said with an appreciative laugh.
Now about this girl he's in love with?" "That happened about three months ago. He met her at one of those roof-garden, midnight cabaret, turkey-trot palaces in New York " "Yes, I know. I always take in the sights when I go to New York, but the last time I was at that one up near Fifty-fourth Street the noise bothered me.
"I'm not going to wince," he said, "so's you could notice it with a microscope. What I'm going to do is to buy a good big stick. And I'd advise you to do the same." It was by Psmith's suggestion that the editorial staff of Cosy Moments dined that night in the roof-garden at the top of the Astor Hotel. "The tired brain," he said, "needs to recuperate.
She retreated before him, her eyes watchful. Men in his condition were apt to be as quick with a blow as with a caress. But, having gained his point, he was amiable. "Get your things on and come out. We can take in a roof-garden." "I've told you I'm not doing that sort of thing." He was ugly in a flash. "You've got somebody else on the string." "Honestly, no.
So I thought I'd like to run down and take him out to dinner once or twice to a roof-garden or something, you know. It's rather pathetic that men of his age, grown gray in service, should feel obliged to remain in the stifling city this summer." "Of course you must go," she said; "you couldn't even hesitate. Is your mother worried?"
That members of the gangs should crop up in the Astor roof-garden and in gorgeous raiment in the middle of Broadway was a surprise. When Billy Windsor had mentioned the gangs, he had formed a mental picture of low-browed hooligans, keeping carefully to their own quarter of the town. This picture had been correct, as far as it went, but it had not gone far enough.
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