The creature looked too simple, too--not dowdy, but too unsophisticated,
to have anything false about her. Figure too thin, hardly to be called a
"figure" at all, but agreeably girlish; and its owner might be anywhere
from twenty to five or six years older. Not beautiful: just an average,
lady-like English girl--or perhaps more of Irish type; but certainly with
possibilities. If she were a princess or a millionairess, she might be
glorified by newspapers as a beauty.
Annesley forced her nervous limbs to slow movement, because she hoped,
or dreaded--anyhow, expected--that one of the dozen or so unattached men
would spring up and say, constrainedly, "Miss Grayle, I believe?--er--how
do you do?" If only he might not be fat or very bald-headed!
He had not described himself at all. Everything was to depend on her gray
dress and the white rose. That seemed, now one came face to face with the
fear, rather ominous.
But no one sprang up. No one wanted to know if she were Miss Grayle; and
this, although she was ten minutes late.
Her instructions as to what to do at the Savoy were clear. If she were
not met in the foyer, she was to go into the restaurant and ask for a
table reserved for Mr.
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