Their table faced the entrance, and Madame de Corantin's seat enabled her
to see every one who entered or left the restaurant. Alistair Ramsey was
standing in the doorway, waiting for the head waiter to show him to his
table. His eyes were fixed upon Madame de Corantin's face. The look of
astonishment Bobby had noticed before had given place to one of mingled
surprise and curiosity. He had exchanged his uniform for evening dress,
and wore a flower in his buttonhole. A waiter went towards him, and he
began threading his way through the diners. Another instant, and he stood
beside Madame de Corantin's chair.

Under the compulsion of a will felt but not expressed in words, Bobby
rose as he approached, and introduced him.

"I hope you will allow me to join you after dinner?" Alistair Ramsey
asked as he bowed.

Madame de Corantin smiled affirmatively, and Bobby ground his teeth as
Ramsey proceeded to his table.

* * * * *

Madame de Corantin did not care for the chatter and casual encounters of
the public rooms of an hotel. It was her practice to retire to her own
salon after dinner, unless she were going to a theatre. After the first
two or three days of their acquaintance she had invited Bobby to join her
there, and he had been immensely flattered. He looked forward to that
moment every evening, for it seemed to him to admit a certain intimacy
which he greatly valued. But now his heart was beating with apprehension.
Would she ask Ramsey to her private apartment?