He was human. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. ‘To begin with,’ he said, ‘allow me a very tiny intimacy. "I am happy—quite happy now. ” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. ” So they talked on whilst supper was served, falling easily into the spirit of the place, and yet both of them conscious of some new thing underlying the gaiety of their tongues and manner.
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