I’d dropped my papers at the office. Warner is one of these cheap Ameri dentists, and he has his sulting-room, or ‘parlour’ as he likes to call it, half a big block of offices, between a photographer and a rubber-goods wholesaler. I was early for my appoi, but it was time for a bit of grub. I don’t knout it into my head to go into a milk-bar. They’re places I generally avoid. We five-to-ten-pound-a-weekers aren’t well served in the way of eating-places in London. If your idea of the amount to spend on a meal is one and threepe’s either Lyons, the Express Dairy, or the A.B.C., or else it’s the kind of funeral snack they serve you in the saloon bar, a pint of bitter and a slab of cold pie, so cold that it’s colder than the beer. Outside the milk-bar the boys were yelling the first editions of the evening papers.
Behind the bright red ter a girl in a tall white cap was fiddling with an ice-box, and somewhere at the back a radio laying, plonk-tiddl……（内容加载失败！）
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