Again Johnny asked: "Do you mean it? Honest?" "Of course I mean it, Johnny," he replied. "I haven't been in Delmonico's for ten years and more," said the other. "I'd like to have just another dinner there. But you can't take me there. Look at me!" White looked at him. The thin coat was buttoned tight; it was very worn, and yet it was not ragged; it was in better condition than the hat or the boots. As the two men stood there facing each other on the corner of the street there was a foretaste of winter in the wind which smote them and ate into their marrow. White linked his arm again in his classmate's. "I've seen you look sweller, Johnny, I confess," he said; "but I haven't dressed for dinner myself to-night." "So it's Delmonico's?" Johnny asked. "It's Delmonico's," White responded. "Then take me into the cafe," said the other. "I can stand the men, I think, but I'm not in shape to go into the restaurant where the women are." "Very well," agreed White. "We'll try the cafe." When they entered the cafe it was crowded with young men. There was already a blue haze of smoke over the heads of the noisy throng. Boys drinking champagne at adjacent tables were calling across to each other with boisterous merriment. White was able to secure a small table near the corner on the Broadway side. As he walked over to it he nodded to half a score of acquaintances, some of whom looked askant at his companion, and exchanged whispered comments after he had passed. Apparently Johnny neither saw the looks nor heard the whispers. He followed White as if in a dream; and White had noticed that when they had entered the heated room Carroll had drawn a long breath as though to warm himself. "I don't need an overcoat in here," he said, as he took the chair opposite White's with the little marble-topped table between them. When the waiter had deftly laid the cloth, Johnny fingered its fair softness, as with a cat-like enjoyment of its cleanness. "Now, what shall we have?" asked White, as the waiter handed him the bill of fare in its narrow frame. "What would you like?" "I?" the guest responded; "oh, anything--whatever you want--some roast beef." "Then your taste has changed since you left college," White declared. "I asked you what you would _like_." "What _I'd_ like?" echoed Johnny. "Do you mean it? Honest?" White smiled as the old college phrase dropped again from the lips of his classmate. "Of course I mean it," he said; "honest. There's the bill of fare. Order what you please. And remember that it is Thanksgiving, and that I'm hungry, and that I want a good dinner." "Very well, then," said Johnny, as he took the bill of fare. He was already warmer, and now he seemed to expand a little with the unwonted luxury of the occasion. He looked over the bill of fare carefully.