adoration of six-shooters and broncos. At the end Sir Gerald
murmured, "Jolly good picture, this. So awfully decent of you to take
me. Haven't enjoyed myself so much for weeks. All these Hostesses--they
never let you go to the cinema!"

"The devil you say!" Babbitt's speech had lost the delicate refinement
and all the broad A's with which he had adorned it, and become hearty
and natural. "Well, I'm tickled to death you liked it, Sir Gerald."

They crawled past the knees of fat women into the aisle; they stood in
the lobby waving their arms in the rite of putting on overcoats. Babbitt
hinted, "Say, how about a little something to eat? I know a place where
we could get a swell rarebit, and we might dig up a little drink--that
is, if you ever touch the stuff."

"Rather! But why don't you come to my room? I've some Scotch--not half
bad."

"Oh, I don't want to use up all your hootch. It's darn nice of you,
but--You probably want to hit the hay."

Sir Gerald was transformed. He was beefily yearning. "Oh really, now;
I haven't had a decent evening for so long! Having to go to all these
dances. No chance to discuss business and that sort of thing. Do be a
good chap and come along. Won't you?"

"Will I? You bet! I just thought maybe--Say, by golly, it does do a
fellow good, don't it, to sit and visit about business conditions,
after he's been to these balls and masquerades and banquets and all
that society stuff. I often feel that way in Zenith. Sure, you bet I'll
come."

"That's awfully nice of you." They beamed along the street. "Look
here, old chap, can you tell me, do American cities always keep up this
dreadful social pace? All these magnificent parties?"

"Go on now, quit your kidding! Gosh, you with court balls and functions
and everything--"

"No, really, old chap! Mother and I--Lady Doak, I should say, we usually
play a hand of bezique and go to bed at ten. Bless my soul, I couldn't
keep up your beastly pace! And talking! All your American women, they
know so much--culture and that sort of thing. This Mrs. McKelvey--your
friend--"

"Yuh, old Lucile. Good kid."

"--she asked me which of the galleries I liked best in Florence. Or was
it in Firenze? Never been in Italy in my life! And primitives. Did I
like primitives. Do you know what the deuce a primitive is?"

"Me? I should say not! But I know what a discount for cash is."

"Rather! So do I, by George! But primitives!"

"Yuh! Primitives!"

They laugh