"It was my servant's fault, I suppose," he said. "I told him to ring up last night and order the table for two in that corner. However, we will take the vacant one near your desk."
He looked around and, as if for the first time, missed Louise. He came toward them at once.
"The prince seems to have ordered his table last night," John remarked, his tone, even to himself, sounding queer and strained.
Louise made no reply. The prince was already shaking hands with Sophy.
"I thought you were spending the week-end with my cousin, Strangewey," he remarked, turning to John.
"We did spend part of it together," John replied. "The weather drove us back this afternoon."
"I congratulate you both on your good taste," said the prince. "There is nothing more abominable than a riverside retreat out of season. We are taking the table on the left, Louise."
He led her away, and they passed down the room. John slowly resumed his seat.
"Sophy," he demanded hoarsely, "tell me the truth. Is there anything between the prince and Louise?"
Sophy nervously crumbled up the toast by her side.