real banquet--seven-pennyworth of honest
beef and vegetables. Now, with a trifle over four shillings in my
pocket, I was, to outward seeming, carelessly scanning a menu, in
which no single dish, not even the soup, seemed to cost less than
about three times the price of one of my best dinners.

But at the next table sat a London editor. I was free to contemplate
him. Was not that feast enough for such as I? Evidently I thought it
was, for I told the waiter with an elaborate assumption of boredom
that I did not feel like eating much, but would see what I could make
of a little of the soup St. Germain. I wondered often if the man
noticed the remarkable manner in which the crisp French rolls on that
table disappeared, while I toyed languidly with my soup. I did not
dare to ask for more rolls when I had made an end of the four or five
that were on the table; but I could have eaten a dozen of them without
much difficulty.

'No, thank you, I think I shall be better without anything to-day,' I
said to the waiter who drew my attention to a sumptuous volume which I
had already discovered to be the wine-list. There was a delicate
suggestion in my tone (I hoped) that occasional abstinence from wine,
say, at luncheon had been found beneficial for my gout. Certainly, if
he counted his rolls, the man could hardly have suspected me of a
diabetic tendency.

All this time I studied the profile of the editor, while he leisurely
discussed, perhaps, half a sovereign's worth of luncheon. I hoped--and
again feared--he might presently recognise me; but he only looked
blandly through me once or twice to more important objects beyond. And
just as I had concluded that it was not humanly possible to spend any
longer over one spoonful of practically cold soup, he rose, gracefully
disguised a yawn, and strolled away to an Elysian hall in which, no
doubt, liqueurs, coffee, and cigars of great price were dispensed.
This was not for me, of course.

They managed somehow to make my bill half a crown, and, as a trifling
mark of my esteem, I gave the waiter the price of two of my ordinary
dinners, for himself. I badly wanted to give him sixpence, but lacked
the requisite moral courage, though I do not suppose he would have
wasted a thought upon it either way, and if he had--but, as I say, I
gave him a shilling. After all I do not suppose the poor fellow earned
much more in a day than I earned in a week. And then (still with
prudent thought for my gou