acquaintance with the public schools and universities of England.
There was no trace of any foreign accent, yet Remington Kara was a
Greek and had been born and partly educated in the more turbulent
area of Albania.

The two men shook hands warmly.

"You'll stay to dinner?"

Kara glanced round with a smile at Grace Lexman. She sat
uncomfortably upright, her hands loosely folded on her lap, her
face devoid of encouragement.

"If Mrs. Lexman doesn't object," said the Greek.

"I should be pleased, if you would," she said, almost
mechanically; "it is a horrid night and you won't get anything
worth eating this side of London and I doubt very much," she
smiled a little, "if the meal I can give you will be worthy of
that description."

"What you can give me will be more than sufficient," he said, with
a little bow, and turned to her husband.

In a few minutes they were deep in a discussion of books and
places, and Grace seized the opportunity to make her escape. From
books in general to Lexman's books in particular the conversation
flowed.

"I've read every one of them, you know," said Kara.