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I don't believe you could get a drink. And you would stand a
chance of pretty rough usage. Last week I went right from a dinner to
Blunkers's to say a word to him. I was in evening dress, newcastle, and
crush hat--even a bunch of lilies of the valley--yet every man there
was willing to shake hands and have me sit down and stay. Blunkers
couldn't have been dressed so, because it didn't belong to him. For the
same reason, you would have no business in Blunkers's place, because you
don't belong there. But the men know I dressed for a reason, and came to
the saloon for a reason. I wasn't putting on airs. I wasn't intruding my
wealth on them."
"Look here, chum, will you take me into Blunkers's place some night, and
let me hear you powwow the 'b'ys?' I should like to see how you do it."
"Yes," Peter said deliberately, "if some night you'll let me bring
Blunkers up to watch one of your formal dinners. He would enjoy the
sight, I'm sure."
Leonore cocked her little nose up in the air, and laughed merrily.


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