The blankness of the girl's disappointment looked out appealingly from
wistful, wide-apart eyes. The man was sorry.

"There may be some misunderstanding," he consoled her. "Perhaps Mr. Smith
has telephoned, and we have not received the message. I hope it is not
the fault of the hotel. We do not often make mistakes; yet it is
possible. We have had a few early dinners before the theatre and there is
one small table disengaged. Would madame care to take it--it is here,
close to the door--and watch for the gentleman when he comes?"

"When he comes!" The head-waiter comfortably took it for granted that Mr.
Smith had been delayed, that he would come, and that it would be a pity
to miss him. The polite person might be right, though with a sinking
heart Annesley began to suspect herself played with, abandoned, as she
deserved, for her dreadful boldness.

Perhaps Mr. Smith had been in communication with someone else more
suitable than she, and had thrown over the appointment without troubling
to let her know. Or perhaps he had been waiting in the foyer, had
inspected her as she passed, and hadn't liked her looks.

This latter supposition seemed probable; but the head-waiter was so
confident of what she ought to do that the girl could think of no excuse.
After all, it would do little harm to wait and "see what happened." As
Mr. Smith was apparently not living at the Savoy (he had merely asked her
to meet him there), he might have had an accident in train or taxi.
Annesley had made her plans to be away from home for two hours, so she
could give him the benefit of the doubt.

A moment of hesitation, and she was seating herself in a chair offered by