"The entrecôte was wonderful, also the omelette," Julien admitted. "I will supplement 'amply' with 'well,' if you wish, but the insistent note about this dinner is certainly its amplitude. I have not eaten so much for ages."
Kendricks was filling his pipe.
"Cigars or cigarettes you must order for yourself," he said. "I know nothing of them. The coffee is before you. I will be frank with you—it is not good. The brandy, however, is harmless."
Julien lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. Just then the sandy young man re-entered the room. He hastened to his place, but instead of resuming it stood by the side of the girl, talking. He seemed to be suggesting some course of which she disapproved, pointing to her unfinished dinner. Kendricks nodded his head slowly.
"The young man has to leave," he remarked. "He wishes mademoiselle to accompany him. She declines. He is annoyed. Behold, a lover's tiff! He has placed the money for the dinner upon the table. He shakes her hand very politely. Behold, he goes! Mademoiselle shrugs her shoulders. She orders from the menu. She remains alone. My dear Julien, if you will you can prosecute your conquest. The young man has departed."
Julien glanced across the room. He met the girl's eyes and once again he saw in them that curious, almost impersonal invitation.
"She wants something," Kendricks declared. "I am going over to see what it can be. Carlo!"
He summoned the waiter and asked him a question quickly in Italian.
"The man says that her companion is not returning," he remarked, rising. "I am going to interview the young lady."
Julien shrugged his shoulders.