By Heaven—he was the only guest! A cover was laid for him only—no, at a distance of half the table for another. Then Betty and her aunt had gone. Well, so much the better.
He unfolded his table-napkin. In another moment, doubtless, Uncle James would appear to fill the vacant place.
But in another moment the vacant place was filled—and by Betty—Betty alone, unchaperoned, and bristling with hostility. She bowed very coldly, but she was crimson to the ears. He rose and came to her holding out his hand.
With the waiter looking on, Betty had to give hers, but she gave it in a way that said very plainly:
"I am very surprised and not at all pleased to see you here."
"This is a most unexpected pleasure," he said very distinctly, and added the truth about his uncle.
"Has Monsieur Vernon yet returned?" he asked the waiter who hovered anxiously near.
"No, Monsieur was not yet of return."
"So you see," his look answered the speech of her hand, "it is not my doing in the least."
"I hope your aunt is well," he went on, the waiter handing baked eggs the while.