"He is anxious to make your acquaintance.

He is my--prime minister over in Russia." Etta smiled graciously.
"It is kind of him," she answered, "to be anxious to make my acquaintance." She was apparently listening to the music; in reality she was hurrying back mentally over half a dozen years.

She had never had much to do with the stout German philosopher, but she knew enough of him to scorn the faint hope that he might have forgotten her name and her individuality.
Etta Bamborough had never been disconcerted in her life yet; this incident came very near to bringing about the catastrophe.
"At what time," she asked, "is he coming in ?" "About half-past nine." Etta had a watch on a bracelet on her arm.

Such women always know the time.
It was a race, and Etta won it.

She had only half an hour.