"Has the optimism been imbibed," she asked, "or is it spontaneous?"
Lucille smiled.
"Unless the little man in the plaid mackintosh poured it into the
coffee with the milk," she said, "I could not possibly have imbibed
it, for I haven't spoken to another soul since we left."
"Paris! Here we are, thank goodness. Celeste can see the things
through the customs. She is quite used to it. We are going to the
Ritz, I suppose!"
CHAPTER XLI
At eight o'clock in the evening Lucille knocked at the door of
Lady Carey's suite of rooms at the hotel. There was no answer.
A chambermaid who was near came smiling up.
"Miladi has, I think, descended for dinner," she said.
Lucille looked at her watch. She saw that she was a few minutes
late, so she descended to the restaurant. The small table which
they had reserved was, however, still unoccupied. Lucille told the
waiter that she would wait for a few moments, and sent for an
English newspaper.
Lady Carey did not appear. A quarter of an hour passed. The head
waiter came up with a benign smile.
"Madam will please to be served?" he suggested, with a bow.
"I am waiting for my friend Lady Carey," Lucille answered. "I
understood that she had come down. Perhaps you will send and see
if she is in the reading-room."
"With much pleasure, madam," the man answered.
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