“Is they any good eatin’ places out by your place?” he says.
I thought I had him.
“Not as good as downtown,” says I, and I named the Loop restaurants.
“How’s the car service after midnight?” he says.
“Grand!” says I. “All night long.”
I wondered where he would take us. Him and Bess crossed the avenue and stopped where the crowd was waitin’ for southbound cars.
“He’s got some favorite place a ways south,” says the Missus.
A car come and I and her clumb aboard. We looked back just in time to see Bessie and Bishop wavin’ us farewell.
“They missed the car,” says the Missus.
“Yes,” I says, “and they was just as anxious to catch it as if it’d been the leprosy.”
“Never mind,” says the Missus. “If he wants to be alone with her it’s a good sign.”
“I can’t eat a sign,” says I.
“We’ll stop at The Ideal and have a little supper of our own,” she says.
“We won’t,” says I.
“Why not?” says the Missus.
“Because,” I says, “they’s exactly thirty-five cents in my pocket. And offerin’ my stomach seventeen and a half cents’ worth o’ food now would be just about like sendin’ one blank cartridge to the Russian army.”