As they walked up Charing¹ Cross Road, he pointed² out the Crabtree, and referred to the fact that at one time he had frequented it regularly. She stopped to look at its white-and-gold frontage. In enamel³ letters on the windows were the words: "Table d'hôte, 6 to 9, 1/6."

 

"Is it a good place?" she asked.

 

"The best in London—of that kind."

 

"Then let us dine there; I have often wanted to try a vegetarian⁴ restaurant."

 

Richard protested that she would not like it.

 

"How do you know? If you have been so often, why shouldn't I go once?" She smiled at him, and turned to cross the street; he hung back.

 

"But I only went for economy."

 

"Then we will only go for economy to-day."

 

He dangled⁵ before her the attractions of the French restaurant in Soho, but to no purpose. He was loth to visit the Crabtree. Most probably Miss Roberts would be on duty within, and he felt an inscrutable unwillingness⁶ to be seen by her with Adeline.... At last they entered. Looking through the glass doors which lead to the large, low-ceiled dining-room on the first floor, Richard saw that it was nearly empty, and that the cash-desk, where Miss Roberts was accustomed to sit, was for the moment unoccupied. He led the way in rather hurriedly, and selected places in a far corner. Although it was scarcely beginning to be dusk, the table electric lights were turned on, and their red shades made glimmering⁷ islands of radiance about the room.

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