All that blurred together in a mazy idea that it was sure to be cosy.

Then I came downstairs, saw all these little tables with their vases of flowers, the spotless serviettes sticking up like white horns out of the wine-glasses, saw the beaming face of Berthe over there; was greeted with, 'Bon soir, Monsieur;' and so I dined.

That's a year and a half ago.

I've had my dinner, on an average, three times a week here ever since." "It must be nice to be a man," said Sally.
"Why ?" "Oh, I don't know; to dine where you like, find out these quaint little places, never to have to think of the impression you give by what you do." He leaned back in his chair, and smiled at her.

"We have to think just as much as you do, in most of the things we really want to do.
I didn't want particularly to dine in such a place as this, that evening I came here.