Walters rose involuntarily, and then sat still to think
about it. He would have to countermand the dinner which he
had ordered over half an hour before, and he would have to
explain who he was to those other servants who had always
regarded him as such a great gentleman. It was very hard.

And then Walters was tempted. He was a very good
servant, and he knew his place as only an English servant can,
and he had always accepted it, but to-night he was
tempted--and he fell. He met the waiter's anxious look with
a grave smile.

"The other gentlemen will not be with me to-night, "he
said, glancing at the note. "But I will dine here as I
intended. You can serve for one. "

That was perhaps the proudest night in the history of
Walters. He had always felt that he was born out of his
proper sphere, and to-night he was assured of it. He was a
little nervous at first, lest some of Van Bibber's friends
should come in and recognize him; but as the dinner progressed
and the warm odor of the dishes touched his sense, and the
rich wines ran through his veins, and the women around him
smiled and bent and moved like beautiful birds of beautiful
plumage, he became content, grandly content; and he half
closed his eyes and imagined he was giving a dinner to
everybody in the place. Vain and idle thoughts came to him
and went again, and he eyed the others about him calmly and
with polite courtesy, as they did him, and he felt that if he
must later pay for this moment it was worth the paying.