"My dear chap—" began Harrowby angrily.
"No matter." Mr. Minot stood up. "I'll say au revoir, Lord Harrowby—until to-night."
"Or until we meet in San Marco." Lord Harrowby regained his good nature. "I'm extremely sorry to be so impolite. But I believe we're going to be very good friends, none the less."
"We're going to be very close to each other, at any rate," Minot smiled. "Once more—au revoir, your lordship."
"Pardon me—good-by," answered Lord Harrowby with decision.
And Richard Minot was again threading his way between awed tables.
Walking slowly down Fifth Avenue, Mr. Minot was forced to admit that he had not made a very auspicious beginning in his new role. Why had Lord Harrowby refused so determinedly to invite him aboard the yacht that was to bear the eager bridegroom south? And what was he to do now? Might he not discover where the yacht lay, board it at dusk, and conceal himself in a vacant cabin until the party was well under way? It sounded fairly simple.
