Down and Out in Paris and London:
It is disagreeable to eat out of a newspaper on a public seat, especially in the Tuileries, which are generally full of pretty girls, but I was too hungry to care. While I ate, Boris explained that he was working in the cafeteria of the hotel—that is, in English, the stillroom. It appeared that the cafeteria was the very lowest post in the hotel, and a dreadful come-down for a waiter, but it would do until the Auberge de Jehan Cottard opened. Meanwhile I was to meet Boris every day in the Tuileries, and he would smuggle out as much food as he dared. For three days we continued with this arrangement, and I lived entirely on stolen food. Then all our troubles came to an end, for one of the plongeurs left the Hôtel X., and on Boris’s recommendation I was given a job there myself.