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 her Madonna pose and sprinkled the shirt-front of the man on her right with wine. The man didn't take the pleasantry kindly and during the ensuing exchange of compliments the Madonna used words that made Dave squirm uncomfortably in his chair. He looked across and found Wade smiling at his discomfiture.

"Boy, I reckon I'm a darned tenderfoot around these diggins," he said with a shake of his head.

It was their last evening together and they prolonged their stay at the little wall table until the room was nearly empty and the orchestra had gone and the yawning waiters had begun to pile the chairs. Then they crossed the quiet, deserted square to the hotel and sought their rooms, Dave somewhat saddened by champagne and disillusionment.

"Reckon that sort of thing goes on here every night," he said, waving his cigar in the general direction of the restaurant.