Once or twice he knew that he was visioning
the girl in soft brown whom he would "go home to," and who, in
a Lazydays suburban residence, would play just such music for
him and the friends who lived near by. She would be as clever
as Istra, but "oh, more so's you can go regular places with
her."... Often he got good ideas about letters South, to be
jotted down on envelope backs, from that music.
At last comes the historic match-box incident.
On that October evening in 1910 he dined early at Miggleton's.
The thirty-cent table d'hote was perfect. The cream-of-corn soup
was, he went so far as to remark to the waitress, "simply slick";
the Waldorf salad had two whole walnuts in his portion alone.
The fat man with the white waistcoat, whom he had often noted as
dining in this same corner of the restaurant, smiled at him and
said "Pleasant evening" as he sat down opposite Mr. Wrenn and
smoothed the two sleek bangs which decorated the front of his
nearly bald head.
The music included a "potpourri of airs from `The Merry Widow,'"
which set his foot tapping.
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