“All parts. France, England, Germany—Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Syria, Greece, Palestine, Arabia, Persia, Egypt—all over—everywhere.”
“I’m agreed.”
“All right.”
“Won’t it be a swell trip!”
“We’ll spend forty or fifty thousand dollars trying to make it one, anyway.”
Another long pause.
“Higbie, we owe the butcher six dollars, and he has been threatening to stop our—”
“Hang the butcher!”
“Amen.”
And so it went on. By three o’clock we found it was no use, and so we got up and played cribbage and smoked pipes till sunrise. It was my week to cook. I always hated cooking—now, I abhorred it.