I had more than once in my reflections pivoted on the word.
The great hotel was very nearly deserted when I entered.
There was the glow of a cigar where some one smoked, at the end of the long porch. Within, there was only a sleepy clerk.
Madame Barras had not arrived... he was quite sure; she had gone out to dinner somewhere and had not come in!
I was profoundly concerned. But I took a moment to reflect before deciding what to do.
I stepped outside and there, coming up from the shadow of the porch, I met Sir Henry Marquis.
It was chance at its extreme of favor. If I had been given the selection, in all the world, I should have asked for Sir Henry Marquis at that decisive moment.
The relief I felt made my words extravagant.
“Marquis!” I cried. “You here!”
“Ah, Winthrop,” he said, in his drawling Oxford voice, “what have you done with Madame Barras; I was waiting for her?”