“It must be he!” exclaimed Gerald.
“No doubt of that!” replied Touchtone. “He’s making straight this way. Swing round that seat, Gerald. It hasn’t been taken all day, I think.”
“I believe I have the pleasure of finding some travelers I was to look for,” began the new arrival as he stood before them. “My name is Hilliard; and this, I presume, is Mr. Philip Touchtone, and this Gerald Saxton? I’m very happy to meet you both.”
He had a wonderfully pleasant, smooth voice, and his white teeth shone under his fine mustache as he smiled.
“We were afraid that you had not come out from the city, sir,” said Gerald, making room.
“O, yes,” replied Mr. Hilliard, with a little laugh. “I—I really couldn’t stay at home. My friend —— that I wrote of expected me.”
He took the offered seat, brushing out of it as he did so a gray linen button lost from a duster, along with the advertising-page of a newspaper.
“And now, pray, tell me how you left Mr. —— Marcy? His letter said he was in his usual health.”
“O, yes, sir,” responded Philip, “and busy as ever with the hotel.”
“It has done better this season than last, I understand?”