From table to table moved 'Tonio, like a prince in his palace,
greeting his guests. White, jewelled hands signalled him from every
side.
A glass of wine with this one and that, smiles for all, a jest and
repartee for any that might challenge--truly few princes could be so
agreeable a host! And what artist could ask for further appreciation
of his handiwork? Katy did not know that the proudest consummation of
a New Yorker's ambition is to shake hands with a spaghetti chef or to
receive a nod from a Broadway head-waiter.
At last the company thinned, leaving but a few couples and quartettes
lingering over new wine and old stories. And then came Mr. Brunelli
to Katy's secluded table, and drew a chair close to hers.
Katy smiled at him dreamily. She was eating the last spoonful of a
raspberry roll with Burgundy sauce.
"You have seen!" said Mr. Brunelli, laying one hand upon his collar
bone. "I am Antonio Brunelli! Yes; I am the great 'Tonio! You have
not suspect that! I loave you, Katy, and you shall marry with me. Is
it not so? Call me 'Antonio,' and say that you will be mine."
Katy's head drooped to the shoulder that was now freed from all
suspicion of having received the knightly accolade.
"Oh, Andy," she sighed, "this is great! Sure, I'll marry wid ye. But
why didn't ye tell me ye was the cook? I was near turnin' ye down for
bein' one of thim foreign counts!"
XXIV
FROM EACH ACCORDING TO HIS ABILITY
Vuyning left his club, cursing it softly, without any particular
anger.
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