a large proportion of whom were young women in Pompadour-looking dresses.
Within, the place was cool and vaguely lighted, with the plash of water,
the odor of flowers, and the flitting of French waiters, as I have said,
upon soundless carpets.

"It's rather like Paris, you know," said the younger of our two travelers."

"It's like Paris--only more so," his companion rejoined.

"I suppose it's the French waiters," said the first speaker.
"Why don't they have French waiters in London?"

"Fancy a French waiter at a club," said his friend.

The young Englishman started a little, as if he could not fancy it.
"In Paris I'm very apt to dine at a place where there's an English waiter.
Don't you know what's-his-name's, close to the thingumbob?
They always set an English waiter at me. I suppose they think I
can't speak French."

"Well, you can't." And the elder of the young Englishmen unfolded his napkin.

His companion took no notice whatever of this declaration. "I say,"
he resumed in a moment, "I suppose we must learn to speak American.
I suppose we must take lessons."

"I can't understand them," said the clever man.

"What the deuce is HE saying?" asked his comrade,
appealing from the French waiter.