"If you live in Italy you know that, no doubt." I laughed in chorus, and then glancing at my watch, said: "I'll wait for him, if he will be here at ten.

I'd much like to see him again." The Russian was by no means nonplused, but merely remarked-- "He is late sometimes, but not often.

He lives on the other side of London--over at Camberwell." His confidence that the waiter would return struck me as extremely curious; nevertheless I possessed myself in patience, strolled up and down the restaurant, and then stood watching the traffic in the Grove outside.
The man Odinzoff seemed a quick, hard-working fellow with a keen eye to business, for he fell to polishing the top of the marble tables with a pail and brush, at the same time directing the work of the pallid-looking youth.

Suddenly a side door opened, and the cook put his head in to speak with his master in French.

He was a typical Italian, about forty, with dark mustaches turned upwards, and an easy-going, careless manner.