"Hill's confession will finally refute a number of absurd stories
which have been in circulation during the last few days. We
understand that, notwithstanding the serious nature of the man's
injuries, there is every possibility of his recovery."
Annabel pulled down her veil to hide the tears. Sir John filled his
glass with trembling hand.
"Thank God," he exclaimed. "The fellow is not such a blackguard, after
all."
Annabel's hand stole into his.
"And I have dragged you all over here for nothing," she murmured.
"For nothing, do you call it?" he declared. "I wouldn't have been
without this trip for worlds. It has been a real honeymoon trip,
Annabel, for I feel that it has given me a wife."
Annabel pulled up her veil.
"You are a dear," she exclaimed affectionately. "I do hope that I
shall be able to make it up to you."
Sir John's reply was incoherent. He called a waiter.
"Garcon," he said, "will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he
will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me."
The stranger came over to them smiling. He had been on the point of
leaving the restaurant. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed.
"I drink your very good health, Sir John and Lady Ferringhall," he
said, "and I wish you a pleasant journey back to England. If I might
take the liberty, Sir John," he added, with a humorous gleam in his
eyes, "I should like to congratulate you upon your tie."
"Oh, damn the thing!" Sir John exclaimed, tucking the loose ends
inside his coat.
* * * * * "I propose," Sir John said, "that we pay for our dinner--which we
haven't had--tip the garcon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz."
Annabel shook her head.
"Look at our clothes," she exclaimed, "and besides, the funny little
proprietor has gone down himself to help it along. He would be so
disappointed. I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat
anything. No, let us dine here, and then go and have our coffee on the
boulevards. We can take our things up with us and stay at the
Continental or the Ritz."
"Excellent," Sir John declared. "We will do Paris like the tourists,
and thank God here comes dinner."
Everything was good. The garcon was tipped as he had never been tipped
before in his life. They drove up into Paris in an open _fiacre_ with
a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the
rug. They went first to a hotel, and then out again on to the
boulevards. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected
them both. They laughed and talked and stared about them. She took his
hand in hers.