Maddison spoke truly when he said that to him comfort was one of the saving graces of life, indeed to him it was almost the only one. This entry of Squire upon the scene and this turning a comedy into a domestic drama vexed and annoyed him. It had not occurred to him that any man would act so unconventionally as Squire had done. Marian had told him that her husband would not divorce her, looking as he did upon marriage as a sacramental bond which no man had a right to break; so Maddison had thought that there might be an appeal to Marian if Squire discovered her whereabouts, an angry scene very likely and then peace. But it had not entered into his calculations that Squire would be so persistent; this type of man was new and unknown to him, of a kind that he did not understand how best to tackle. To discuss the situation with Marian would be distasteful; there remained only Mortimer to whom he could speak frankly, relying upon the good common sense of any advice he might obtain from him. At this hour of the morning Mortimer should be at his office, and there Maddison rang him up. “Is Mr. Mortimer in?” “Which one?” was the brusque reply. “Mr. Frederick.” “Don’t know. Who is it?” “Tell him Mr. Maddison wants to speak to him for a minute.” “Hold the line.” Mortimer gladly accepted Maddison’s invitation to lunch. “But why on earth come down to this dreary part of town?” he asked. “Don’t deprive me of a lovely excuse for leaving here early and coming back late—if at all. Meet me outside the Palace, and I’ll take you to a tidy little French restaurant I’ve just discovered and haven’t yet found out. One o’clock—all right!” Both were punctual, and Mortimer guided his friend through several small and unsavory streets to a narrow court at the far end of which was situated the humble restaurant bearing the high-sounding name La Palais. “It’s not much to look at,” he said, as they went in through the swing door, “like an ugly woman with a pretty wit. _Bon jour_, Madame.” Madame, a stout, jolly-looking woman, greeted Mortimer cordially, and nodded genially to his companion. “Now, Madame, I’ve brought a friend with me and I’ve told him—well, I’ve told him the truth about you. So don’t shatter my entirely undeserved reputation for veracity. We’ll have this snug corner and leave the menu to you. You know the kind of thing I like.” The room was long and low; clean, neat, with little attempt at decoration; the walls covered with plain, dark gray paper, the electric light pendants severely simple; flowering shrubs stood upon the pay desk near the entrance, and similar plants or cut flowers upon the tables.