to dress before going to the restaurant for dinner, a sudden fresh feeling of alarm took possession of Jack.
"Oh! I wonder if they have everybody on a war ration in London!" he exclaimed. It must be terrible to feel as empty as I do now, and then find you're limited to a couple of thin slices of war bread, without butter, a cup of weak tea, and some stewed prunes—I just hate prunes, you remember, Tom!"
Tom only laughed at him.
"Humbug, Jack! You'll find that even over in Berlin, where the pinch is a heap stronger than in London, the man who has the price can get plenty of food. We're going to have some mutton chops for dinner, and plenty of other good things in the bargain. As for a drink, I prefer coffee, even at a shilling a cup."
It turned out exactly as Tom had said. They went to a restaurant where foreigners still congregated, and were able to order a plentiful and satisfying meal; though certain articles usually on the bill of fare seemed to be tabooed on that particular day, and prices were certainly very high.
Jack, his fears set at rest, was soon feeling much better, both in body and mind, so that he was able to sit and look around at the other guests with some degree of curiosity.
