ANGEL PAVEMENT

"Wonderful how they do it in these places, isn't it? I
mean to say, what would you get in an English restaurant
for that? Nothing worth eating, I'll bet. But these
foreigners can do it. Of course, it's their job. They
know how to cook. Shall we have the dinner?"

Miss Matfield thought that they might, and looked
about her, not very hopefully, while Norman gave the
order to a waitress, a very tall fat girl with a chalky
face and no features, who had just appeared. The queer
middle-aged couple looked queerer still now, for the
man appeared to be dyed and the woman enamelled and
it was incredible that they should ever eat food at all
You felt they ought to feed on wood and paint.

Having given the order, Mr. Birtley was now looking
about him too, and when he had finished doing this and
had obviously noted the more picturesque details for
the benefit of the other members of the staff of the
Chestervern Agricultural College, he beamed at her
through his rimless eyeglasses. "Nothing I enjoy better
than studying these queer types," he whispered. "A
place like this is a treat to me, if only for that reason.
Old Warwick told me I'd enjoy that part of it. He's
had some very funny experiences in his time. I must
try to remember some of the yarns he's told me, once
or twice when I've been sitting up with him over a pipe
at the Chestervern."

While Miss Matfield was asking idly what sort of
man Mr. Warwick was and Norman was telling her,
the waitress had brought them the two halves of a grape-
fruit, the juice of which had apparently been used some
time before. They had not finished with old Warwick,
who seemed to Miss Matfield a silly old man, when the
waitress returned to give them some mysterious thick