Miss Angel was dressed for dinner. She was in the drawing-room with other guests of the hotel, waiting for the gong to sound, when she was informed that a gentleman wished to see her. On the heels of the information entered the gentleman himself. It seemed that Mr. Roland had only eyes for her. As if oblivious of others he moved rapidly forward. She regarded him askance. He, perceiving her want of recognition, introduce himself in a fashion of his own. "Miss Angel, I'm the man who travelled with you from Nice to Dijon." At once her face lighted up. Her eyes became as if they were illumined. "Of course! To think that we should have met again! At last!" To judge from certain comments which were made by those around one could not but suspect that Miss Angel's story was a theme of general interest. As a matter of fact, they were being entertained by her account of the day's proceedings at the very moment of Mr. Roland's entry. People in these small "residential" hotels are sometimes so extremely friendly. Altogether unexpectedly Mr. Roland found himself an object of interest to quite a number of total strangers. He was not the sort of man to shine in such a position, particularly as it was only too plain that Miss Angel misunderstood the situation. "Mr. Roland, you are like a messenger from Heaven. I have prayed for you to come, so you must be one. And at this time of all times--just when you are most wanted! Really your advent must be miraculous." "Ye-es." The gentleman glanced around. "Might I speak to you for a moment in private?" She regarded him a little quizzically. "Everybody here knows my whole strange history; my hopes and fears; all about me. You needn't be afraid to add another chapter to the tale, especially since you have arrived at so opportune a moment." "Precisely." His tone was expressive of something more than doubt. "Still, if you don't mind, I think I would rather say a few words to you alone." The bystanders commenced to withdraw with some little show of awkwardness, as if, since the whole business had so far been public, they rather resented the element of secrecy. The gong sounding, Miss Angel was moved to proffer a suggestion. "Come dine with me. We can talk when we are eating." He shrank back with what was almost a gesture of horror. "Excuse me--you are very kind--I really couldn't. If you prefer it, I will wait here until you have dined." "Do you imagine that I could wait to hear what you have to say till after dinner? You don't know me if you do. The people are going. We shall have the room all to ourselves. My dinner can wait." The people went. They did have the room to themselves. She began to overwhelm him with her thanks, which, conscience-striken, he endeavoured to parry. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you for coming in this spontaneous fashion--at this moment, too, of my utmost need." "Just so."