He bent quickly and raised her hand to his lips; then he was gone almost before she had realised it. And if he heard her little gasping cry—“Archie, my man, come back—I love you so!” he gave no sign.
For in his own peculiar code a very worthless sinner must remain a very worthless sinner to the end—and he must run the course alone.
“WHAT a queer little place, Jimmy!” The girl glanced round the tiny restaurant with frank interest, and the man looked up from the menu he was studying with a grin.
“Don’t let François hear you say that, or you’ll be asked to leave.” The head-waiter was already bearing down on them, his face wreathed in an expansive smile of welcome. “To him it is the only restaurant in London.”
“Ah, m’sieur! it is long days since you were here.” The little Frenchman rubbed his hands together delightedly. “And mam’selle—it is your first visit to Les Coquelins, n’est-ce-pas?”
“But not the last, I hope, François,” said the girl with a gentle smile.
“Ah, mais non!” Outraged horror at such an impossible idea shone all over the head-waiter’s face. “My guests, mam’selle, they come here once to see what it is like—and they return because they know what it is like.”
“There you are, Molly,” he cried. “Now you know what’s expected of you. Nothing less than once a week—eh, François?”
“Mais oui, m’sieur. There are some who come every night.” He produced his pencil and stood waiting. “A few oysters,” he murmured. “They are good ce soir: real Whitstables. And a bird, M’sieur Lethbridge—with an omelette aux fines herbes——”
“Sounds excellent, François,” laughed the man. “Anyway, I know that once you have decided—argument is futile.”
“It is my work,” answered the waiter, shrugging his shoulders. “And a bottle of Corton—with the chill just off. Toute de suite.”
François bustled away, and the girl looked across the table with a faintly amused smile in her big grey eyes.
“He fits the place, Jimmy. You must bring me here again.”
“Just as often as you like, Molly,” answered the man quietly, and after a moment the girl turned away. “You know,” he went on steadily, “how much sooner I’d bring you to a spot like this, than go to the Ritz or one of those big places. Only I was afraid it might bore you. I love it: it’s so much more intimate.”