"Oh, it was written in a good hand. But it was a stiff, commonplace sort
of letter, except that it asked me to wear a white rose. White roses
happen to be the ones I like best."

"So do I," said Mr. Smith. "Did he tell you to come to a table here and
wait for him?"

"Not exactly. He was to meet me in the foyer. But if he did not, I was
to understand he'd been delayed; and in that case I must come to the
restaurant and inquire for a table engaged by Mr. N. Smith. Lots of times
I decided not to do anything. But you see I came, and this is my reward."

"A poor one," her companion finished.

"I don't mean that! I mean he hasn't come at all. Maybe he never meant
to. Maybe he got some letter he liked better than mine, and arranged to
meet the girl somewhere else. A man of that sort wouldn't write to tell
the straight truth in time, and save the unwanted one from humiliation."

"Are you very sorry he didn't?"

"No," Annesley said, frankly. "I'm not sorry. It's good to be able to
help someone. I'm glad I came."

"So am I," Mr. Smith answered with a sudden change in his voice from calm
to excitement. "And now the moment isn't far off, I think, for the help
to be given. The men I spoke of are here. They're in the restaurant. You
can't see them without turning your head, which would not be wise.
They're speaking to a waiter. They haven't seen me yet, but they're sure
to look soon. They're pointing to a table near us. It's free. The