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Updated: June 4, 2025
He waited until the girl had disappeared with a porter and her hand-luggage, and then inquired of the concierge whether the Hotel-Pension Delatour still existed. He put the question carelessly, as though it meant nothing to him, adding, as the man paused to think, that he had looked in vain for the name in the guide-book. "Ah, I remember now, sir," said the concierge.
In the afternoon she usually drove with Mrs. Hudson, but Rowland frequently saw her again in the evening. He was apt to spend half an hour in the little sitting-room at the hotel-pension on the slope of the Pincian, and Roderick, who dined regularly with his mother, was present on these occasions.
The carriage had now drawn up before a large, plain, white house, across which was painted in huge, black letters, "Hôtel-Pension Malfait." "This is the place I have found!" exclaimed Anna. "Would you care to come in and see the room I've engaged from next Monday week?" Sylvia followed her into the house with curiosity and interest.
There beyond, in the smiling green country with the old gray houses, lay mysterious satisfactions that she had hungered for all her life, Experiences, Fame, and Fortune in a word her Happiness. But it wasn't so different after all! As Sam Reddon had predicted, the Bragdons went to live in the Étoile quarter, in a very respectable hotel-pension on the Rue Galilée.
Here they knew almost nobody. The hotel-pension on the Rue Galilée was frequented by the quieter sort of middle-aged English, and a few American mothers with their children, "doing Europe." Hardly a word of French was spoken within its doors, and as far as possible the English habitués of the place had anglicized its food. Milly found few congenial spirits there.
"There used to be a hotel of that name, close to the old town the Kasbah; quite a little place, for commercants, and people like that. Why, yes, to be sure! But the name has been changed, five or six years ago it must be. I think it is the Hotel-Pension Schreiber now." "Oh, and what became of Delatour?"
She was a woman of affairs now large affairs and getting larger all the time. Once, flitting through the rue Gallilée in a cab, she saw the hotel-pension where she and Jack had spent their first winter, and she conjured up a vivid picture of the chilly salon, the table of elderly English women, and the long, dull hours in her close, back room.
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