"You!... You!..."
A man was walking up to her, in dress-clothes, with his opera-hat and cape under his arm, and this man, young, slender and elegant, she had recognized as Horace Velmont.
"You!" she repeated.
He said, with a bow:
"I beg your pardon, madame, but I did not receive your letter until very late."
"Is it possible? Is it possible that this is you ... that you were able to ...?"
He seemed greatly surprised:
"Did I not promise to come in answer to your call?"
"Yes ... but ..."
"Well, here I am," he said, with a smile.