Don't go--sit down.

Here, John, take Mr.Temple's order for--" "No, Harding, thank you." The crushed ice in the glass was no cooler nor crisper than St.George's tone.

"Harry and I have been broiling in the sun all the morning and we are going to go where it is cool." "But it's cool here," Harding called after him, struggling to his feet in the effort to detain him.

There was really no one in the club he liked better than St.George.
"No--we'll try it inside," and with a courteous wave of his hand and a feeling of relief in his heart, he and Harry kept on their way.
He turned to mount the steps when the sudden pushing back of all the chairs on the sidewalk attracted his attention.

Two ladies were picking their way across the street in the direction of the club.