The Ghiter on the Snow gI
it was necessary for me to sign certain papers which
Mr. Wolfe had drawn up at once, on receipt of my
wire, and it would be better to have it done at the
consulate.
“Why, of course, get a taxi,” I said; “ I'll be down
in a minute.”
He went downstairs. I ran in to Lou and told her
that I had to go to the consul on business: I’d be back
in an hour and we could do our shopping.
We took a big sniff of snow and kissed good-bye as
if I were starting on a three years’ expedition to the
South Pole. Then I caught up my hat, gloves, and
cane, and found my young man at the door.
The drink and the air of Paris had given him a sense
of his own dignity. Instead of waiting humbly for me
to get into the car, he was sitting there already; and
though his greeting was still solemnly deferential, there
was a little more of the ambassador about it. He had
repressed the original impulse to touch his hat.
I myself felt a curious sense of enjoyment of my
own importance. At the same time, I was in a violent
hurry to get back to Lou. My brain was racing with
the thought of her. I signed my name where they told
me, and the consul dabbed it all over with stamps,
and we drove back to the hotel, where the clerk extracted
a locked leather wallet from a mysterious inside hip
pocket and counted me out my six thousand in hundred-
pound notes.
Of course, I had to ask the fellow to lunch, it was
only decent, but I was very glad when he excused
himself. He had to catch the two o'clock train back
to town.
“Good God, what a time you've been,” said Lou,
and I could see that she had been filling it in in a
wonderful way. It was up to her neck. She danced
about like a crazy woman with little jerky movements
which I couldn’t help seeing signified nervous irritability.
However, she was radiant, beaming, glowing, bursting
with excitement.