"I had a very comfortable crossing," she remarked a moment later.
I gave her into the keeping of the manager of the hotel and did not see
her again until she came down somewhat late for dinner. I met her in
the vestibule. She wore a closely fitting brown dress, which in colour
matched the bronze of her hair and in shape showed off her lithe and
generous figure.
I thought it my duty to cheer her by a well-deserved compliment.
"Are you aware," I said, with a low bow, "that you're a remarkably
handsome woman?"
A perfectly unnecessary light came into her eyes and a superfluous flush
to her cheeks. "If I'm at least that to you, I'm happy," she said.
"You're that to the dullest vision. Follow the _maitre d'hotel_,"
said I, as we entered the _salle a manger_, "and I'll walk behind in
reflected glory."
We made an effective entrance. I declare there was a perceptible rattle
of soup-spoons laid down by the retired Colonels and maiden ladies as
we passed by. Colonel Bunnion returned my nod of greeting in the most
distracted fashion and gazed at Lola with the frank admiration of
British Cavalry.
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