She did not seem very much concerned about finding Harry, but chattered to me about the appointments of the bar.

The beer-pulls amused her particularly.

She made me order a glass of bitter (a beverage which I loathe) in order to see again how it was done, and broke into gleeful laughter.

The smart but unimaginative barmaid stared at her in bewilderment.

The two or three bar-loafers also stared.