wine-stained shirt-bosom, was slumbering serenely, two-thirds of an
extravagant cigar cold between his fingers. In others two young men
were confabulating quietly but with a most dissipated air, heads
together over a brace of glasses. At a corner service table a negro in
a white jacket was busy with a silver chafing-dish which exhaled a
tantalising aroma. This last, at the entrance of P. Sybarite, glanced
quickly over his shoulder, and seeing a strange face, clapped the
cover on the steaming chafing-dish and discovered a round black
countenance bisected by a complete mouthful of the most brilliant
teeth imaginable.

"Yas-suh--comin'!" he gabbled cheerfully. "It's sho' a pleasure to see
yo' again."

"At least," suggested P. Sybarite, dropping into a chair, "it will be,
next time."

"Tha's right, suh--that's the troof!" The negro placed a small table
adjacent to his elbow. "Tha's what Ah allus says to strange gemmun,
fust time they comes hyeh, suh; makes 'em feel more at home like. Jus'
lemme know what Ah kin do for yo' to-night. That 'ere lobstuh
Newburg's jus' about prime fo' eatin' this very minute, ef yo' feel a
bit peckish."

"I do," P. Sybarite admitted. "Just a spoonful--"

"An' uh lil drink, suh? Jus' one lil innercent cocktail to fix yo'
mouf right?"

"If you insist, Pete--if you insist."