"Very well," Annesley agreed.

The man nodded to the head-waiter, who had been interested in the little
drama indirectly stage-managed by him. Instead of sending a subordinate,
he came himself to take the order. With wonderful promptness, considering
that Mr. Smith's thoughts had not been near the menu under his eyes,
several dishes were chosen and a wine selected.

"Madame is glad now that I persuaded her not to go?" the waiter could not
resist, and Annesley replied that she was glad. As the man turned away,
"Mr. Smith" raised his eyebrows with rather a wistful smile.

"I'm afraid you're sorry, really," he said. "If I'd come a minute later
than I did, you'd have been safe and happy at home by this time."

"Not happy," amended the girl. "Because it isn't home. If it were, I
shouldn't have told fibs to Mrs. Ellsworth to-night."

"That sounds interesting," remarked her companion.

"It's _not_ interesting!" she assured him. "Nothing in my life is. I
don't want to bore you by talking about my affairs, but if you think we
may be--interrupted, perhaps, I'd better explain one or two things while
there's time. I wanted to come here this evening to keep an engagement
I'd made, but it's difficult for me to get out alone. Mrs. Ellsworth
doesn't like to be left, and she never lets me go anywhere without her
except to the house of some friends of mine, the only real friends I
have. It's odd, but _their_ name is Smith, and that saved my telling
a direct lie. Not that a half-lie isn't worse, it's so cowardly!