He settled the score, and the two of them entered the hotel and passed through into the private bar.
"What is it to be ?" demanded Pennell.
"Cocktails to-day, old son," said Peter; "I want bucking up.

What do you say to martinis ?" The other agreed, and they moved over to the bar.

A monstrously fat woman stood behind it, like some bloated spider, and a thin, weedy-looking girl assisted her.

A couple of men were already there.

It was too early for official drinks, but the Bretagne knew no law.
They ordered their drinks, and stood there while madame compounded them and put in the cherries.