waiter, and when he had come, Geary read off the entire order to
him twice over, making sure that he had taken it correctly. "That's what
we want all right, all right--isn't it?" he said, looking around at the
rest.

The waiter, whose eyes were red from lack of sleep, put down before them
a plate of limp, soft shrimps.

"Hello, Toby!" said Vandover.

"Good evening, gentlemen," answered Toby. "Why, good evening, Mr.
Vandover; haven't seen you 'round here for some time." He took their
order, and as he was going away, Vandover called him back:

"Say, Toby," said he, "has Flossie been around to-night?"

"No," answered Toby, "she hasn't shown up yet. Her running-mate was in
about nine, but she went out again right away."

"Well," said Vandover, smiling, "if Flossie comes 'round show her in
here, will you?"

The others laughed, and joked him about this, and Vandover settled back
in his seat, easing his position.

"Ah," he exclaimed, "I like it in here. It's always pleasant and warm
and quiet and the service is good and you get such good things to eat."

Now that the young fellows were by themselves, and could relax that
restraint, that good breeding and delicacy which had been natural to
them in the early part of the evening at the Ravises', their manners
changed: they lounged clumsily upon their seats, their legs stretched
out, their waistcoats unbuttoned, caring only to be at their ease. Their
talk and manners became blunt, rude, unconstrained, the coarser
masculine fibre reasserting itself. With the exception of young Haight
they were all profane enough, and it was not very long before their
conversation became obscene.

Geary told them how he had spent the afternoon promenading Kearney and
Market streets and just where he had gone to get his cocktail and his
cigar. "Ah," he added, "you ought to have seen Ida Wade and Bessie
Laguna. Oh, Ida was rigged up to beat the band; honestly her _hat_ was
as broad across as that. You know there's no use talking, she's an
awfully handsome girl."

A discussion arose over the girl's virtue. Ellis, Geary, and young
Haight maintained that Ida was only fast; Vandover, however, had his
doubts.

"For that matter," said Ellis after a while, "I like Bessie Laguna a
good deal better than I do Ida."

"Ah, yes," retorted young Haight, "you like Bessie Laguna too much
anyhow."

Young Haight had a theory that one should never care in any way for that
kind of a girl nor become at