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AVE had outfitted all the way across the continent, so to speak, adding to his wardrobe wherever they had stopped long enough for him to reach a store. The pajamas he had purchased in Chicago. They were of pale lavender with white fleur-de-lis sprinkled upon them, and, unfortunately, they were much too small. To see Dave lolling luxuriously in a crimson velvet arm-chair attired in lavender pajamas that threatened to give way every time he puffed at his big, black cigar gave the observer an excellent idea of what blonde Odin would have looked like had he lived today. The partners were occupying a suite of three rooms, and when Wade, his night attire chastely hidden by a dressing gown, joined Dave the latter gazed about the parlor with large satisfaction.