Evening star., 1924-12-15
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES z. TRACEVELL.

Just inside the plate glass window
| at a table facing the street, sat 4
woman weeping.
She was well dressed in the furi
Of hundred little squirrels that hai
never done her any harm. Her hat
was fashionable, and her hand bal
on the porcelain table bespoke money
Yet there she sat, in the afternoon
sunlight Of a December day, weeping
so that all the passersby on fre.
quented street In the National Capita
might see her grief. Probably not
one In a hundred noticed her. or cared
a whoop about her il they did. ,.@-.
She was pretty, after a fashion
Here was romance, one thought, or
display In restaurant window! o.
was II only foolishness? Yet there
was something genuine about the
way she wept.
Her head was bowed, as il eating
but there was nothing on the table
TO eat. She held small lace hand
kerchief clutched in her left hand
while with her right she ,brushe
away tear that glistened for a mo.
ment In the rays of the sun
snail we enter, and ask her what
Is wrong? Perhaps this is the be-
ginning or a road that will end ur
In the Potomac River. Madam" W.
shall say, may I inquire just why
you are weeping here In the sunshine
The place is rather public. and II
you will do nothing else. l beg OF
you, retire back a few tables into the
DINNER recesses of the restaurant
NO. we do not enter. A great city
is great CITY. If a woman wants to
shed tears on the marble top Of q
dairy lunch table, that is distfnctl,
her own business. Her conscience
must be her guide.
x y x
Restaurants have always Fascinated
me, suppose, not only because OF
the food one gets therein, but even
more because OF the various types OF
humanity one is privileged to en-
counter at the counter. In the arm
chairs. everywhere inside the portals
heralding certain kind of coffee
brewing.
speak of the ordinary variety of
dairy lunch or average restaurant
found throughout the business sec
tfon. OF the more pretentious estab-
lishments, more later. The curious
little places. too, including tearoorns
and the like, will have to await their
turn in these chronicles of EVERYDAY
life
Today we turn in at the sign of the
coffee, opening a very ordinary sor,
of door to go in, and stepping across
sill that has sturiily resisted the
scrapping OF masculine soles for Is
years. to my own limited knowledge
and probably as many more, to which
the older inhabitants could testify
no doubt.
1t is a darkish sort of room. lit by
two good sized windows and several
large electric lights. The flooring is
dark brown linoleum. The chairs
around the periphery are of the com
mon type found in such places They
too, have borne the brunt OF the bat
tie, countless thousands OF male ell
bows having massaged them over the
years.
Serge, cheviot. tweed clad arms
have held cups of coffee poised here
and elbows in shirt sleeves alone, and
in no sleeves at all. have done the
same. This Is daily temple dedi-
Gated from the beginning to the eter-
nal male.
There never has been any compro-
mise in this place There are no
white letters on the panes declaring
Ladies and Gentlemen" or Ladies
and Gents" Rankly masculine, this
place is for men only.
Here man may come for a cup OF
coffee undisturbed by the prospects OF
feminine invasion No woman OF
girl ever has been known to invade
this precinct. Several have been seen
to get as far as placing their hand on
the doorknob. but there they faltered
Their heart failed them.
g X i ,-
Yes. we are, safe here. The wiles
and graces of the other sex all those
playful tricks with which they be-
guile our fancy and make US as wax
beneath the Summer sun, are here as
IL thax, haId haoa Ia.at..