triumphal procession, such as few of Caesar's generals had ever known.
Arrived at the predestined table, he stood one side while menials drew out
the chairs. Then he marched tremendously back to the main door, his chin
high, his expression haughty, his backbone rigid. This head waiter was the
feature of the Bella Union Hotel, just as the glass columns were the
feature of the Empire, or the clockwork mechanism of the El Dorado.

The dinner itself went well. Everybody seemed to be friendly and at ease,
but by one of those strange and sudden social transitions it was rather
subdued. This was for various reasons. Nan Keith, after her brief reaction,
found herself again suffering from the lassitude and fatigue of a long
voyage; she needed a night's rest and knew it. Keith himself was a trifle
sleepy as an after affect to the earlier drinking. Sherwood was naturally
reserved and coolly observing; Mrs. Sherwood was apparently somehow on
guard; and Sansome, as always, took his tone from those about him. The wild
spirits of the hour before had taken their flight. It was, however, a
pleasant dinner--without constraint, as among old friends. After the meal
they went to the public parlour, a splendid but rather dismal place.
Sherwood almost immediately excused himself. After a short and somewhat
awkward interval, Nan decided she would go to bed for her needed rest.

"You won't think me rude, I know." said she.

Keith, whose buoyant temper had been sadly divided between a genuine wish
to do the proper and dutiful thing by his wife and a great desire to see
more of this fascinating city, rose with so evident an alacrity under
restraint that Mrs. Sherwood scarcely, concealed a smile. She said her
adieux at the same time, and left the room, troubling herself only to the
extent of that ancient platitude about "letters to write."