I had been looking forward to my dinner for hours and hours.

I had sat down in my imagination to a _consomme bisque_, _sole au gratin_, a _poulet saute_, and an _omelette au fromage_.
Waiterkind in the making.
It is wrong to let one's mind dwell upon carnal delights; I see that now.
At the time I was mad about it.

The fool would not even listen to me.

He had got it into his garlic-sodden brain that all Englishmen live on beef, and nothing but beef.

He swept aside all my suggestions as though they had been the prattlings of a foolish child.
"You haf nice biftek.