“My dear Lady Clifton-Wyatt, I am Miss Webling––Marie Louise. Don’t you know me?”
Lady Clifton-Wyatt answered: “I did. But I don’t!”
Then she turned and moved toward the dining-room door.
The head waiter bowed with deference and command and beckoned Lady Clifton-Wyatt. She obeyed him with meek hauteur.
CHAPTER II
As she came out of the first hotel of her selection and rejection Marie Louise asked the car-starter the name of another. He mentioned the New Willard.
It was not far, and she was there before she had time to recover from the staggering effect of Lady Clifton-Wyatt’s bludgeon-like snub. As timidly as the waif and estray that she was, she ventured into the crowded, gorgeous lobby with its lofty and ornate ceiling on its big columns. At one side a long corridor ran brokenly up a steep hill. It was populous with loungers who had just finished their dinners or were waiting for a chance to get into the dining-rooms. Orchestra music was lilting down the aisle.
When Marie Louise had threaded the crowd and reached the desk a very polite and eager clerk asked her if she had a reservation. He seemed to be as regretful as she when she said no. He sighed, “We’ve turned away a hundred people in the last two hours.”