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Froelich." "Oh, please don't call me 'Mr. Froelich'; couldn't you manage to say 'Bobby' at least once before Ramsey appears?" Madame de Corantin broke into that catching laugh of hers. "Very well then, 'Bobby, my friend, I am going to trust to your discretion by telling you my little story. I was once travelling on a ship going to America at that time I was very unhappy. I was quite alone.
Of a sudden, for no reason that he could possibly have explained, an impulse made him walk into the restaurant. In that instant he felt positively, he could have sworn that Madame de Corantin was there. His heart beat so that he thought it must be heard as he made his way to the entrance, and immediately, with a strange sort of intuition, his eyes found her.
Now he had only a hotel servant to send on messages. When the man arrived he dispatched him instantly to find out whether Madame de Corantin had sent him any message, and began to dress hurriedly. The servant did not return, and in his impatience Bobby cursed him and rang again. Another servant appeared and was hurried off on the same errand.
Clancey was running down the street towards Piccadilly as fast as his legs could carry him. Another shock was in store for poor Bobby. Jumping out of his taxi, he presented himself to the hall-porter, armed with his huge paper parcel from the florist. "For Madame de Corantin," he said. The porter looked at him; he knew him well and accepted the offering hesitatingly.
She had hardly said the words when there was a knock on the door, and Alistair Ramsey entered the room and stood before her, bowing. With a few easy words the new-comer settled himself in a chair, and at the invitation of Madame de Corantin lit a cigarette.
Madame de Corantin led the conversation by a few casual remarks, which were immediately taken up by Ramsey, and in a few minutes they were talking together as people do who, though they have not met before, have known of each other for years.
I was obliged to leave Paris so suddenly, and never had an opportunity of showing him how much I appreciated his kindness to me." Ramsey said nothing, but he glared at Bobby vindictively. Presently Madame de Corantin rose, but as she left the room she made a point of keeping Bobby beside her, and in her inimitable way she asked Ramsey to fetch her cloak.
"For Madame de Corantin, you said, sir?" "Yes," said Bobby. "Madame de Corantin left early this afternoon, Mr. Froelich." For a moment Bobby was speechless. "Left?" he gasped. "Are you sure?" "I'm perfectly certain, sir." "But surely she is coming back again, isn't she? Why, I'm lunching with her to-morrow." The porter looked at him in surprise.
Ramsey had the assurance which comes from social success, and he took no trouble to conceal the indifference, if not contempt, with which he regarded the other man. His manner was alternately insolent and condescending; he kept his eyes fixed upon Madame de Corantin, ignoring Bobby's presence completely.
"We are so well like this," she would say. "Why should we spoil it?" And Bobby was delighted beyond measure. The days passed. Bobby's original intention had been to remain in Paris only a week, but he was fully determined to stop on as long as Madame de Corantin accepted his companionship. If he stayed there until the end of the War, he did not care, provided he could be with her.
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