With a powerful effort he checked
himself.
"Good night," he said.
She was gone.
CHAPTER II
Limits of space forbid the insertion of the whole of this
chapter. Its opening contains one of the most vivid
word-pictures of the inside of an American customs house
ever pictured in words. From the customs wharf de Vere
is driven in a taxi to the Belmont. Here he engages a
room; here, too, he sleeps; here also, though cautiously
at first, he eats. All this is so admirably described
that only those who have driven in a taxi to an hotel
and slept there can hope to appreciate it.
Limits of space also forbid our describing in full de
Vere's vain quest in New York of the beautiful creature
whom he had met on the steamer and whom he had lost from
sight in the aigrette department of the customs house.
A thousand times he cursed his folly in not having asked
her name.
Meanwhile no word comes from her, till suddenly,
mysteriously, unexpectedly, on the fourth day a note is
handed to de Vere by the Third Assistant Head Waiter of
the Belmont.
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