Norfolk."

There was a knock at the door. She started, and looked at me a little
uneasily. Almost immediately the door was pushed open. It was Louis
who entered, bearing a menu card. He addressed me with a little air of
surprise. I was at once certain that he had known of my visit, and had
come to see what it might mean.

"Monsieur has returned very soon," he remarked, bowing pleasantly.

"My journey was not a long one, Louis," I answered. "What have you
brought that thing for?" I continued, pointing to the menu card. "Do
you want an order for dinner? Miss Delora is dining elsewhere with
me!"

My tone was purposely aggressive. Louis' manners, however, remained
perfection.

"Miss Delora has engaged a table in the cafe," he said. "I have come
myself to suggest a little dinner. I trust she will not disappoint us."

She looked at me pathetically. There was something which I could not
understand in her face. Only I knew that whatever she might ask me I
was prepared to grant.

"Will you not stay and dine here with me?" she said. "Louis will give
us a very good dinner, and afterwards I shall have my message, and I
shall know whether I may go or not."

The humor of the idea appealed to me. There was suddenly something
fantastic, unbelievable, in the events of last night.

"With pleasure!" I answered.

Louis bowed, and for a moment or two seemed entirely engrossed in the
few additions he was making to the menu he carried. Then he handed it
to me with a little bow.

"There, monsieur," he said. "I think that you will find that
excellent."

"I have no doubt that we shall, Louis," I answered. "I will only ask
you to remember one thing."

"And that, monsieur?" he asked.

"I dine with mademoiselle," I said, "and our appetites are identical!"

Louis smiled. There were times when I suspected him of a sense of
humor!

"Monsieur has not the thick neck of Bartot!" he murmured, as he
withdrew.

CHAPTER XXIII

FELICIA

It seemed to me that Felicia that night was in her most charming
mood. She wore a dress of some soft white material, and a large black
hat, under which her face--a little paler even than usual--wore almost
a pathetic aspect. Her fingers touched my arm as we entered the
restaurant together. She seemed, in a way, to have lost some of her
self-control,--the exclusiveness with which she had surrounded
herself,--and to have become at once more natural and more girlish. I
noticed that she chose a