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Updated: May 6, 2025
Did you happen to see it when you sat down, sir?" "I am confident that there was no letter " began he, and then allowed his gaze to rest on the name-card at the top of the chair. "This happens to be my chair, madam," he went on, pointing to the card. "'R. Schmidt. I am very sorry." "The steward must have put that card there while you were at luncheon, dear.
He sat next to her without ceremony, removing another man's name-card for the purpose, and after a few short, snapped phrases about anything or nothing, they drifted into easy talk. Lucy's simplicity made her a delightful companion, when she was sure of her footing. She told him that she had been saving up Lancelot's letter to show him. "Good," he said. "I want it."
Here I had to pass olives or something to somebody, and the other man, seeing his chance, and, to do him justice, with no idea that he was interrupting a story, struck in once more, so that the history of Pepper had to remain in abeyance for several minutes. My uneasiness returned. Could there be a mistake about that name-card after all?
" She peered at the name-card "Mr. Schmidt." Her cool insolence succeeded in nettling a nature that was usually most gentle. He spoke with characteristic directness. "Thank you, I shall do so. We thereby manage to strike a fair average. I seize your deck chair, you seize my table. We are quits." She smiled faintly. "R. Schmidt did not sound young and gentle, but old and hateful.
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