I answered that I would meet my friend – by correspondence – at
Fayot’s on Thursday at half-past twelve. She was not so young as I
expected and in appearance imposing rather than attractive. She was
in fact a woman of forty (a charming age, but not one that excites a
sudden and devastating passion at first sight), and she gave me the
impression of having more teeth, white and large and even, than were
necessary for any practical purpose. She was talkative, but since she
seemed inclined to talk about me I was prepared to be an attentive
listener.
I was startled when the bill of fare was brought, for the prices were
a great deal higher than I had anticipated. But she reassured me.
“I never eat anything for luncheon,” she said .
“Oh, don’t say that!” I answered generously.
“I never eat more than one thing. I think people eat far too much
nowadays. A little fish, perhaps. I wonder if they have salmon.”
Well, it was early in the year for salmon and it was not on the bill of
fare, but I asked the waiter if there was any. Yes, a beautiful salmon had
just come in, it was the first they had had. I ordered it for my guest. The
waiter asked her if she would have something while it was being
cooked.
“No,” she answered, “I never eat more than one thing. Unless you
have a little caviar. I never mind caviar.”
My heart sank a little. I knew I could not afford caviar, but I could
not very well tell her that. I told the waiter by all means to bring caviar.
For myself I chose the cheapest dish on the menu and that was a
mutton chop.
“I think you’re unwise to eat meat,” she said. “I don’t know how you
can expect to work after eating heavy things like chops. I don’t believe
in overloading my stomach.”