Cold Corned Beef à la Thieis, Stewed Prunes à la Garibaldi.

Dessert. Dried prunes⁠—White bread, Currant Jelly, Tea⁠—Café, Liqueurs, Pipes and Cigarettes.

Fallowby applauded frantically, and Sylvia served the soup.

“Isn’t it delicious?” sighed Odile.

Marie Guernalec sipped her soup in rapture.

“Not at all like horse, and I don’t care what they say, horse doesn’t taste like beef,” whispered Colette to West. Fallowby, who had finished, began to caress his chin and eye the tureen.

“Have some more, old chap?” inquired Trent.