Englishman in a hurry
takes a cab, as his father before him did - takes the same cab his
father took, if possible - and the Latin races dislike telephone
conversations because the gestures all go to absolute waste. The
French telephone resembles a dingus for curling the hair. You
wrap it round your head, with one end near your mouth and the other
end near your ear, and you yell in it a while and curse in it a
while; and then you slam it down and go and send a messenger. The
hero of the present tale, however, could not send a messenger - the
hotel people had their orders to the contrary from one who was not
to be disobeyed.
Finally in stark desperation, maddened by the sounds of sidewalk
revelry that filtered up to him intermittently, he incased his
feet in bed-room slippers, slid a dressing gown over his pajamas,
and negotiated a successful escape from the hotel by means of a
rear way. Once in the open he climbed into a handy cab and was
driven to the cafe of his choice, it being the same cafe mentioned
a couple of paragraphs ago.
Through a side entrance he made a hasty and unhindered entrance
into this place - not that he would have been barred under any
circumstances, inasmuch as he had brought a roll with him.
