He was sitting, his dark eyes roaming here and there about the
dining-room. Prince's, as you may know, is a gorgeous establishment:
too much so for my taste--it has almost as much gilded moulding as
if T-S had designed it for a picture palace. In front of Carpenter's
eyes sat a dame with a bare white back, and a rope of big pearls
about it, and a tiara of diamonds on top; and beyond her were more
dames, and yet more, and men in dinner-coats, putting food into red
faces. You and I get used to such things, but I could understand
that to a stranger it must be shocking to see so many people feeding
so expensively.

"Vot you vant to order, Mr. Carpenter?" demanded T-S; and I waited,
full of curiosity. What would this man choose to eat in a "lobster
palace"?

Carpenter took the card from his host and studied it. Apparently he
had no difficulty in finding the most substantial part of the menu.
"I'll have prime ribs of beef," said he; "and boiled mutton with
caper sauce; and young spring turkey; and squab en casserole; and
milk fed guinea fowl--" The waiter, of course, was obediently
writing down each item. "And planked steak with mushrooms; and
braised spare ribs--"

"My Gawd!" broke in the host.

"And roast teal duck; and lamb kidneys--"

"Fer the love o' Mike, Mr. Carpenter, you gonna eat all dat?"