s eddied in the saucer. "I wonder what those
two fools are bellowing at?" he said, turning about irritably.

"Hanged if I know!" muttered Hawker in reply. "This place makes me
weary, anyhow. Hear the blooming din!"

"What's the matter?" said Hollanden. "You used to say this was the one
natural, the one truly Bohemian, resort in the city. You swore by it."

"Well, I don't like it so much any more."

"Ho!" cried Hollanden, "you're getting correct--that's it exactly. You
will become one of these intensely---- Look, Billie, the little one is
going to punch him!"

"No, he isn't. They never do," said Hawker morosely. "Why did you bring
me here to-night, Hollie?"

"I? I bring you? Good heavens, I came as a concession to you! What are
you talking about?--Hi! the little one is going to punch him, sure!"

He gave the scene his undivided attention for a moment; then he turned
again: "You will become correct. I know you will. I have been watching.
You are about to achieve a respectability that will make a stone saint
blush for himself. What's the matter with you? You act as if you thought
falling in love with a girl was a most extraordinary circumstance.--I
wish they would put those people out.--Of course I know that you----
There! The little one has swiped at him at last!"

After a time he resumed his oration. "Of course, I know that you are not
reformed in the matter of this uproar and this remarkable consumption of
bad wine. It is not that. It is a fact that there are indications that
some other citizen was fortunate enough to possess your napkin before
you; and, moreover, you are sure that you would hate to be caught by
your correct friends with any such _consomme_ in front of you as we had
to-night. You have got an eye suddenly for all kinds of gilt. You are in
the way of becoming a most unbearable person.--Oh, look! the little one
and the proprietor are having it now.--You are in the way of becoming a
most unbearable person. Presently many of your friends will not be fine
enough.--In heaven's name, why don't they throw him out? Are you going
to howl and gesticulate there all night?"

"Well," said Hawker, "a man would be a fool if he did like this dinner."

"Certainly. But what an immaterial part in the glory of this joint is
the dinner! Who cares about dinner? No one comes here to eat; that's
what you always claimed.--Well, there, at last they are throwing him
out. I hope he lands on his head.--Really, you know, Bil