ostumed, and placed Monsieur
Paul Martin in one glance, on the instant of his calculated start of
recognition. At once her face lighted up with a charming smile--few
women could boast teeth as white and fine--and almost before Lanyard
could extricate himself from his chair she was at pause before him,
holding his hand.

"Paul!" she cried in lilting accents. "I'm so glad! It's been simply
ages.... And looking so well! I don't believe you've changed a bit."

The nicely judged pitch of her voice, neither so high nor so low as to
attract more than passing attention, won approval which Lanyard put
into the pressure of his lips upon her hand and the bow, at once
punctilious and intimate, that accompanied it.

"And you, Athenais, always exquisite, but to-day...Truly one has never
seen you looking better."

"Flattery," she commented. "But I love it!"

Meanwhile her gaze, that seemed so constant to his eyes, reviewed other
people in the lounge in one swift, searching glance, and returned to
Lanyard with a droop of the lashes, imperceptible to all but him, that
signified there was no one present likely in her esteem to prove
dangerous to their peace of mind.

"Flattery? To you? But impossible!"

He delighted her, and she showed it openly. But her lips said only:
"Have I kept you waiting a frightfully long time, poor boy?"

"Let your appetite accuse you, Athenais."

"But I am starving!"

"Then, as I take it, nothing on earth can prevent our going in to
dinner."

Lanyard had already consulted with the maitre d'hotel over the menu and
the reservation. As the two settled down at a table on the side of the
room, not conspicuously far from any other in use, and at the same time
comfortably detached, their iced melon was waiting to be served.

"Always the most thoughtful of men," Mademoiselle Reneaux declared. "No
fussing with the carte, no thrusting it into one's hand and saying:
'See anything you'd like, my dear? I rather fancy the boeuf-a-la-mode
for myself!' That's why I'd adore dining with you, Paul, even if I
didn't adore you for yourself."

"One is well repaid when one's modest efforts are so well appreciated."

"Blague, my friend, sheer blague. You know you relish a good dinner of
your own ordering far more than anybody's appreciation, even mine."

The waiters had retired, leaving them alone in a momentary oasis of
public isolation.

"Mademoiselle," said Lanyard in more formal vein, "I am sure,
underestimate