But as the magic hour
strikes, presto!--they suffer a sea change and become the quintessence
of the Spirit of the Village!
It is 10.20 P.M. at the Brevoort in the restaurant upstairs.
All the world and his wife--or his sweetheart--are fully represented.
Most of the uptowners--the regulation clientele--are going away,
having finished gorging themselves on delectable things; some few of
them are lingering, lazily curious; a certain small number are still
coming in, moved by that restless Manhattanic spirit that hates to go
home in the dark.
Among these is a discontented, well-dressed couple, seen half an hour
before completing their dinner a block away at the Lafayette. The head
waiter at that restaurant explained them nonchalantly, not to say
casually:
"It is the gentleman who married his manicurist. Regard, then--one
perceives they are not happy--eh? It is understood that she beats
him."
Yonder is a moving-picture star, quite alone, eating a great deal, and
looking blissfully content. There is a man who has won a fortune in
war-brides--the one at the next table did it with carpets.
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