Ah ain' had no hours ob happiness an' ease sence Ah lef' you, 'Toly.
Shet up!
Pacify yo'self, 'Toly. Pacify yo'self. Doan git recited.
The Creeper scowled.
Jungle, jumble. Waiters with shields, bearing poisoned wine: waiter-warriors. . . . Jelly-roll lak mine. . . . Pink silk. Blue silk. That green girl. . . . What made her look green? Coloured girl, Byron remembered. That was it: coloured girl. If you've never been vamped by a brown skin. . . . Too skinny! Ain' she loose! Jelly-roll lak mine!
Byron poured himself out another drink. What 'was going round and round in his head? My way, my way's cloudy; go send dem angels down! . . . Gin, golden-browns, Blues, and snow. Where did they get the snow? He wanted some. He was about to call a waiter when he heard a voice announce, Shine butter an' egg man. His weary eyes sought the doorway. Randolph Pettijohn! He thought he'd get him later with Lasca! Well, here would do. Res' yo' coat, he knew the girl was saying. The bastard! He'd soon rest his coat for ever! Byron's hand involuntarily sought his hip-pocket.
The King was walking towards him, straight towards him. The fool! All the waiters in the place surrounded him. He could have any table.
