"'I guess he means you,' I whispered to Peaches, but she looked
very solemnly at the menu card and began to bite her lips.
"'_Je suis tout a votre service_,' the waiter cross-countered
before I could recover, and he had me gasping. It never struck me
that I had to take a course in French before entering the St. Regis
hunger foundry, and there I sat making funny faces at the
tablecloth, while my wife blushed crimson and the waiter kept on
bowing like an animated jack-knife.
"'Say, Mike!' I ventured after a bit; 'tip us off to a quiet bunch
of eating that will fit a couple of appetites just out seeing the
sights. Nothing that will put a kink in a year's income, you know,
Beau; just suggest some little thing that looks better than it
tastes, but is not too expensive to keep down.'
"'_Oui, oui_!' His Marseillaise came back at me, '_un diner
confortable doit se composer de potage, de volaille bouillie ou
rotie, chaude ou froide, de gibier, de plats rares et distingues,
de poissons, de sucreries, de patisseries et de fruits_!'
"I looked at my wife, she looked at me, then we both looked out the
window and wished we had never been born.
"'Say, Garsong,' I said, after we came to, 'my wife is a daughter
of the American Revolution and she's so patriotic she eats only in
United States, so cut out the Moulin Rouge lyrics and let's get
down to cases.
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