"I am sorry," he said, "but to tell you the truth," he added, glancing
towards Quest, "I fancied that you were feeling about the same."

"We women are poor dissemblers," Lenora murmured. "Do look how angry this
old woman seems."

An elderly lady, dressed in somewhat oppressive black, with a big cameo
brooch at her throat and a black satin bag in her hand, was being shown by
the steward to a seat by Quest's side. She acknowledged the Captain's
greeting acidly.

"Good evening, Captain," she said. "I understood from the second steward
that the seat on your right hand would be reserved for me. I am Mrs.
Foston Rowe."

The Captain received the announcement calmly.

"Very pleased to have you at the table, madam," he replied. "As to the
seating, I leave that entirely to the steward. I never interfere myself."

Laura pinched his arm, and Lenora glanced away to hide a smile. Mrs.
Foston Rowe studied the menu disapprovingly.

"Hors d'oeuvres," she declared, "I never touch. No one knows how long
they've been opened. Bouillon--I will have some bouillon, steward."

"In one moment, madam."

The Professor just then came ambling along towards the table.