The lamp, my boy, is meat and drink to me, and
companionship and a joy unspeakable. Your dull soul, Samuel, is clay,
your meat is figures, and your drink profit and loss; all of which
reminds me, Samuel, that it is now two o'clock and that the nerves of my
stomach are on a strike. Let--me--see"--and he turned his back, felt in
his pocket, and counted out some bills and change--"Yes, Sam"--here his
dramatic manner changed--"the account is still good--we will now lunch.
Not expensively, Samuel"--with another wave of the hand--"not
riotously--simply, and within our means. Come, thou slave of the
desk--eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die--or bust, Samuel,
which is very nearly the same thing!"
"Old John" at Solari's took their order--a porter-house steak with
mushrooms, peas, cold asparagus, a pint of extra dry--in honor of the
day, Jack insisted, although Sam protested to the verge of
discourtesy--together with the usual assortment of small drinkables and
long smokables--a Reina Victoria each.
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