'I was wondering as I walked along where I should stay--me, Felix Babylon, homeless in London.' 'I should advise you to stay at the Grand Babylon,' Racksole laughed back.
'It is a good hotel, and I know the proprietor personally.' 'Rather expensive, is it not ?' said Babylon.
'To you, sir,' answered Racksole, 'the inclusive terms will be exactly half a crown a week.

Do you accept ?' 'I accept,' said Babylon, and added, 'You are very good, Mr Racksole.' They strolled together back to the hotel, saying nothing in particular, but feeling very content with each other's company.
'Many customers ?' asked Felix Babylon.
'Very tolerable,' said Racksole, assuming as much of the air of the professional hotel proprietor as he could.

'I think I may say in the storekeeper's phrase, that if there is any business about I am doing it.
To-night the people are all on the terrace in the portico--it's so confoundedly hot--and the consumption of ice is simply enormous--nearly as large as it would be in New York.' 'In that case,' said Babylon politely, 'let me offer you another cigar.' 'But I have not finished this one.' 'That is just why I wish to offer you another one.

A cigar such as yours, my good friend, ought never to be smoked within the precincts of the Grand Babylon, not even by the proprietor of the Grand Babylon, and especially when all the guests are assembled in the portico.

The fumes of it would ruin any hotel.' Theodore Racksole laughingly lighted the Rothschild Havana which Babylon gave him, and they entered the hotel arm in arm.