paused uncertainly the young man, disdaining his audience, in a
shrill, nasal tenor raised his voice and sang:

"And from the time the rooster calls I'll wear my overalls,
And you, a simple gingham gown. So, if you're strong for a
shower of rice, We two could make a paradise Of any One-Horse
Town."

At sight of Wharton the head waiter reluctantly detached himself
from his menu and rose. But before he could greet the visitor,
Wharton heard his name spoken and, looking up, saw a woman
descending the stairs. It was apparent that when young she had been
beautiful, and, in spite of an expression in her eyes of hardness
and distrust, which seemed habitual, she was still handsome. She
was without a hat and wearing a house dress of decorous shades and
in the extreme of fashion. Her black hair, built up in artificial
waves, was heavy with brilliantine; her hands, covered deep with
rings, and of an unnatural white, showed the most fastidious care.
But her complexion was her own; and her skin, free from paint and
powder, glowed with that healthy pink that is supposed to be the
perquisite only of the simple life and a conscience undisturbed.

"I am Mrs. Earle," said the woman. "I wrote you that note. Will you
please come this way?"

That she did not suppose he might not come that way was obvious,
for, as she spoke, she turned her back on him and mounted the
stairs. After an instant of hesitation, Wharton followed.

As well as his mind, his body was now acutely alive and vigilant.