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.The moaning continued, sometimes loud, sometimes soft.Finally she cried out sharply, and the hands that had clutched him to her so fiercely relaxed.When she had caught her breath, she said.'Baby, you just graduated top of the class.'Abel hadn't even come.Abel celebrated the awarding of both his degrees by paying scalpers' price for ringside seats and taking George, Monika and a reluctant Clara to watch Gene Tunney fight Jack Dempsey for the heavyweight championship of the world.That night after the fight, Clara felt it was nothingless than her duty to go to bed with Abel as he had spent so much money on her.By the morning, she was begging him not to leave her.Abel never asked her out again.After he had graduated from Columbia, Abel became dissatisfied with his life at the Plaza Hotel, but could not figure out how to secure further advancement.Although he was surrounded by some of the most wealthy and successful men in America, he was unable to approach any of the customers directly, knowing that if he did so, it might well cost him his job and in any case, the customers could not take seriously the aspirations of a waiter.Abel had long ago decided that he wanted to be a head waiter.One day, Mr.and Mrs.Ellsworth Statler came to lunch at the Plaza's Edwardian Room, where Abel had been on relief duty for a week.He thought his chance had come.He did everything he could think of to impress the famous hotelier, and the meal went splendidly.As he left, Statler thanked Abel warmly and gave him ten dollars, but that was the end of their association.Abel watched him disappear through the revolving doors of the Plaza, wondering if he was ever going to get a break.Sammy, the head waiter tapped him on the shoulder: 'What did you get from Mr.Statler?''Nothing,' said Abel.'He didn't tip you?' asked Sammy in a disbelieving tone.'Oh, yes, sure,' said Abel.'Ten dollars.' He handed the money over to Sammy.'That's more like it,' said Sammy.'I was beginning to think you was double-dealing me, Abel.Ten dollars, that's good even for Mr.Statler.You must have impressed him.''No, I didn't.''What do you mean?' asked Sammy.'It doesn't matter,' said Abel, as he started walking away.'Wait a moment, Abel, I have a note here for you.The gentleman at table seventeen, a Mr.Leroy, wants to speak to you personally.''What about, Sammy?''How should I know? Probably lied your blue eyes?Abel glanced over to number seventeen, strictly for the meek and the unknown, because the table was so badly placed near a swing door into the kitchen.Abel usually tried to avoid serving any of the tables at that end of the room.'Who is he?' asked Abel.'What does he want?''I don't know,' said Sammy, not bothering to look up.'I'm not in touch with the life history of every customer the way you are.Give them a good meal, make sure you get yourself a big tip and hope they come again.You may feel it's a simple philosophy but it's sure good enough for me.Maybe they forgot to teach you the basics at Columbia.Now get your butt over there, Abel, and if its a tip be certain yod bring the money straight back to me.'Abel smiled at Sammy's bald head and went over to seventeen.There were two people seated at the table, a man in a colourful checked jacket, of which Abel did not approve, and an attractive young woman with a mop of blonde, curly hair, which momentarily distracted Abel, who uncharitably assumed she was the checked jacket's New York girlfriend.Abel put on his 'sorry smile', betting himself a silver dollar that the man was going to make a big fuss about the swing doors and try to get his table changed to impress the stunning blonde.No one liked being near the smell of the kitchens and the continual banging of waiters through the doors, but it was impossible to avoid using the table, when the hotel was already packed with residents and many New Yorkers who used the restaurant as their local eating place, and looked upon visitors as little less than intruders, Why did Sammy always leave the tricky customers for him to deal with? Abel approached the checked jacket cautiously- 'You asked to speak to me, sir?''Sure did,' said a Southern accent.'My name is Davis Leroy, and this is my daughter Melanie.'Abel's eyes left Mr.Leroy momentarily and encountered a pair of eyes as green as any he had ever seen.'I have been watching you, Abel, for the last five days,' Mr.Leroy was saying in his Southern drawl.If pushed, Abel would have had to admit that he had not noticed Mr.Leroy until the last five minqtes.'I have been very impressed by what I've seen, Abel, because you got class, real class, and I am always on the lookout for that.Ellsworth Statler was a fool not to pick you up right away.'Abel began to take a closer look at Mr.Leroy.His purple checks and double chin left Abel in no doubt that he had not been told about Prohibition, and the empty plates in front of him accounted for his basketball belly, but neither the name nor the face meant anything to him.At a normal lunchtime, Abel was familiar with the background of anyone sitting at thirty-seven of the thirty-nine tables in the Edwardian Room.That day Mr.Leroy was one of the unknown two.The Southerner was still talking.'Now, I'm not one of those multi-millionaires who have to sit at your corner table when they stay at the Plaza.'Abel was limpressed.The average customer wasn't supposed to appreciate the relative merits of the various tables.'But I'm not doing so badly for myself.In fact, my best hotel may well grow to be as impressive as this one some day, Abel.''I am sure it will be, sir,l said Abel, playing for time.'Leroy, Leroy, Leroy.The name didn't mean a thing.'Lemme git to the point, son.The number one hotel in my group needs a new assistant manager, in charge of the restaurants
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