They both still felt stiff and bruised from their leap to the dock, but the comparative warmth of the cab and the greater warmth of the station had thawed them slightly. They walked almost briskly toward the largest of the station’s many restaurants. Sandy led the way inside and chose a table in full view of anyone standing outside the big window overlooking the busy arcade.
Ken, shielding himself behind a large menu, stole a look through the glass. “He’s there.”
“Good.” Sandy grinned. “He’s going to love this. I could tell from the way he was eating in the cabin that he really enjoys his food.” He looked up at a waiter who had hurried to their table. “We’ll start with clams on the half shell,” he said. “Then soup—onion, I guess. And then a sirloin for two—very rare. With it we’d better
