Hull laughed. "I spoke too quick that time," said he. "I suppose you expected to see something out of a fifteenth century Italian old master! Well—it was there, all right."
Jane shrugged her shoulders. "And your Victor Dorn," said she, "no doubt he's seated in some dry, comfortable place enjoying the thought of his men making fools of themselves for him."
They were drawing up to the curb before the Opera House where were the assembly rooms. "There he is now," cried Hull.
Jane, startled, leaned eagerly forward. In the rain beyond the edge of the awning stood a dripping figure not unlike that other which had so disappointed her. Underneath the brim of the hat she could see a smooth-shaven youngish face—almost boyish. But the rain streaming from the brim made satisfactory scrutiny impossible.
Jane again sank back. "How many carriages before us?" she said.
"You're disappointed in him, too, I suppose," said Hull. "I knew you would be."
"I thought he was tall," said Jane.
"Only middling," replied Hull, curiously delighted.
"I thought he was serious," said Jane.
"On the contrary, he's always laughing. He's the best natured man I know."