U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [332]
"Oh, no, sir," broke in Dick hurriedly. "I was just be-ginning to worry about having to go home and look for a job. . . . The Peace Conference wil be a circus and any chance to travel around Europe suits me." The colonel looked at him with narrowed eyes. "I wouldn't put it just that way . . . service should be our first thought . . . natural y what I said is strictly confidential.""Oh, strictly," said Dick, but he couldn't help wearing a grin on his face when he went back to join the others at the table.
Paris again; and this time in a new whipcord uniform with silver bars at his shoulders and with money in his pockets. One of the first things he did was to go back to look at the little street behind the Pantheon where held
-356-lived with Steve Warner the year before. The tal chalky-grey houses, the stores, the little bars, the bigeyed children in the black smocks, the youngsters in caps with silk hand-kerchiefs around their necks, the Parisian drawl of the argot: it al made him feel vaguely unhappy; he was won-dering what had happened to Steve. It was a relief to get back to the office where the enlisted men were moving in newly arrived American rol top desks and yel ow varnished card index cases.
The hub of this Paris was the hôtel de Cril on on the place de la Concorde, its artery the rue Royale where arriving dignitaries, President Wilson, Lloyd George and the King and Queen of the Belgians were constantly parad-ing escorted by the garde republicaine in their plumed helmets; Dick began living in a delirium of trips to Brus-sels on the night express, lobster cardinal washed down with Beaune on the red plush settees at Larue's, champagne cocktails at the Ritz bar, talk ful of the lowdown over a demie at the Café
Weber; it was like the old days of the Baltimore convention, only he didn't give a damn any more; it al hit him cockeyed funny.
One night soon after Christmas, Colonel Edgecombe
took Dick to dinner at Voisin's with a famous New York publicity man who was said to be very near to Colonel House. They stood a moment on the pavement outside the restaurant to look at the tubby domed church opposite.
"You see, Savage, this fel ow's the husband of a relative of mine, one of the Pittsburgh Staples . . . smooth . . . it seems to me. You look him over. For a youngster you seem to have a keen eye for character."
Mr. Moorehouse turned out to be a large quietspoken blueeyed jowly man with occasional y a touch of the south-ern senator in his way of talking. With him were a man named Robbins and a Miss Stoddard, a frail ooking woman with very transparent alabaster skin and a sharp chirpy voice; Dick noticed that she was stunningly wel dressed.
-357-The restaurant was a little too much like an Episcopal church; Dick said very little, was very polite to Miss Stoddard and kept his eyes and ears open, eating the grandducal food and careful y tasting the mel ow wine that nobody else seemed to pay any attention to. Miss Stoddard kept everybody talking, but nobody seemed to want to commit themselves to saying anything about the peace conference. Miss Stoddard told with considerable malice about the furnishings of the hôtel de Mûrat and the Wilsons'
colored maid and what kind of clothes the President's wife, whom she insisted on cal ing Mrs. Galt, was wearing. It was a relief when they got to the cigars and liqueurs. After dinner Colonel Edgecombe offered to drop Mr. Moorehouse at the Cril on, as his staffcar had come for him. Dick and Mr. Robbins took Miss Stoddard home in a taxicab to her apartment opposite Nôtre Dâme on the left bank. They left her at her door. "Perhaps you'l come around some afternoon to tea, Captain Savage," she said. The taximan refused to take them any further, said it was late and that he was bound home to Noisy-le-sec