"But there wasn't. I've
just been through the same process myself, as I was coming around the
corner. I found in an upper vest pocket--I don't know how they got
there--exactly two pennies. You know what kind of a dinner exactly two
pennies will buy!"
"You haven't dined, then?" asked Forster.
"I have not. But I would like to. Now, I'll make you a proposition.
You look like a man who would take up one. Your clothes look neat and
respectable. Excuse personalities. I think mine will pass the scrutiny
of a head waiter, also. Suppose we go over to that hotel and dine
together. We will choose from the menu like millionaires--or, if you
prefer, like gentlemen in moderate circumstances dining extravagantly
for once. When we have finished we will match with my two pennies to
see which of us will stand the brunt of the house's displeasure and
vengeance. My name is Ives. I think we have lived in the same station
of life--before our money took wings."
"You're on," said Forster, joyfully.
Here was a venture at least within the borders of the mysterious country
of Chance--anyhow, it promised something better than the stale
infestivity of a table d'hote.
The two were soon seated at a corner table in the hotel dining room.
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