Mr. In and Mr. Out were meanwhile exchanging pleasantries concerning
their future plans.
"We want liquor; we want breakfast. Neither without the other. One and
indivisible."
"We want both 'em!"
"Both 'em!"
It was quite light now, and passers-by began to bend curious eyes on
the pair. Obviously they were engaged in a discussion, which afforded
each of them intense amusement, for occasionally a fit of laughter
would seize upon them so violently that, still with their arms
interlocked, they would bend nearly double.
Reaching the Commodore, they exchanged a few spicy epigrams with the
sleepy-eyed doorman, navigated the revolving door with some
difficulty, and then made their way through a thinly populated but
startled lobby to the dining-room, where a puzzled waiter showed them
an obscure table in a corner. They studied the bill of fare
helplessly, telling over the items to each other in puzzled mumbles.
"Don't see any liquor here," said Peter reproachfully.
The waiter became audible but unintelligible.
"Repeat," continued Peter, with patient tolerance, "that there seems
to be unexplained and quite distasteful lack of liquor upon bill of
fare."
"Here!" said Dean confidently, "let me handle him." He turned to the
waiter--"Bring us--bring us--" he scanned the bill of fare anxiously.
"Bring us a quart of champagne and a--a--probably ham sandwich.
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