careless and automatic, but he was plainly bursting with joy to be
undergoing such expert and affectionate scrutiny.

Bleak poured out three fingers of whiskey, and held up the baby
tumbler.

"Here's to the happy couple!" he cried, and drank it in one swift,
practiced gesture. He then swallowed about a tablespoonful of the
water. Jerry removed the utensils, again wiped the immaculate bar,
and rang the cashless cash-register. The Perpetual Souse smiled
happily.

"That's how it's done," he said. "Do you remember?"

"We're just back from South America," said Quimbleton.

"Some of the boys from the old Balloon office were in here the
other day," said Bleak. "I'm afraid it was rather too much for
them--in an emotional way, I mean. I tossed off a few for their
benefit, and one of them--the cartoonist he used to be, perhaps
you remember him--fainted with excitement."

"Well, how do you like the job?" said Quimbleton.

Bleak did not answer this directly. Making an apology to Jerry and
promising to be back in a few minutes, he escorted his visitors
round the temple and gave them some of the picture postcards of
himself that were sold to souvenir hunters at five cents each. He
showed them the cafeteria for the convenience of visitors, the
Hostess House (where they found Mrs. Bleak comfortably installed),