Chapter 18The mood in the Wild West steakhouse was oppressively gloomy.
No one could manage a smile. The place was busy as it always was on Sunday afternoons, and everyone hurried about, but something had gone out of them. Their movements lacked vigor, the youthful swing and spring which was usually in evidence. Few words were exchanged among the members of the crew; no one seemed to feel like talking except when necessary in the pursuit of their duties. Everyone seemed spent and haggard, as gray and morose as if they were all suffering from potent hangovers or head colds.
Once in a while, an unspoiled soul would bound through the door, eyes bright and arms swaying, ready to start a new shift. Exuding the familiar vitality of the merry gang, he or she would tumble in and chatter fli
