odd he" Ogle was puzzled. "Singular!" he said. "Did he have lunch put up to be taken in his car?"
"No, gentleman. He did nothing."
"Singular," Ogle repeated thoughtfully; and he paid the bill.
Outdoors, in the morning sunshine, the automobile was waiting for him. The chauffeur and a porter were strapping bags upon the roof; Hyacinthe stood pensively regarding an unlighted cigarette; and Mme. Momoro, already in her accustomed place in the car, gaily waved her long black-gloved hand and smiled a greeting to her preoccupied squire as he appeared.
"Broadfeather didn't do anything about lunch," he informed her. "He has two hours' start of us, and if you expect to carry out his idea of hard-boiled eggs and sandwiches and wood-nymphs and fauns and so forth in the Gorge du Chabat"
"No, no; I don't," she laughed. "Those English will not be there, thank heaven! We will lunch at any place where there is food. Get in and let us forget the English."
He obeyed half of this request; but, when they were again forth upon the road, reverted to "the English."
