Uneasy Money by P. G. Wodehouse

It had been a great night for Nutty Boyd. If the vision of his sister Elizabeth, back at the farm, speculating sadly on the whereabouts of her wandering boy ever came before his mental eye, he certainly did not allow it to interfere with his appreciation of the festivities. At Frolics in the Air, whither they moved after draining Riegelheimer's of what joys it had to offer, and at Peale's, where they went after wearying of Frolics in the Air, he was in the highest spirits. It was only occasionally that the recollection came to vex him that this could not last, that -- since his Uncle Ira had played him false -- he must return anon to the place whence he had come. When this happened a moody silence fell upon him; but he quickly recovered himself, and played the host again with that merry absence of parsimony that had endeared him in the past to so many of Broadway's horse leeches.

Why, in a city of all-night restaurants, these parties ever break up, one cannot say, but a merciful Providence sees to it that they do, and just as Lord Dawlish was contemplating an eternity of the company of Nutty and his two companions, the end came. Miss Leonard said that she was tired. Her friend said that it was a shame to go home at dusk like this, but if the party was going to be broken up, she supposed there was nothing else for it. Bill was too sleepy to say anything.