The Apollo of her dreams, the singer of the Holland House pavement, was at Mrs.Rawdon's side, was talking to her, was evidently a familiar friend.
She was going to meet him, to speak to him at last.

She would hear his name in a few moments; all that she had hoped and believed was coming true.

And the clear, resonant voice of Lydia Rawdon was like music in her ears as she said, with an air of triumph she could not hide: "Miss Rawdon, I want you to know my son, Mr.John Thomas Rawdon, and also John Thomas's cousin, Mr.Tyrrel Rawdon, of the United States." Then Mr.Tyrrel Rawdon looked into Ethel's face, and in that marvelous meeting of their eyes, swift as the firing of a gun, their pupils dilated and flashed with recognition, and the blood rushed crimson over both faces.

She gave the gentlemen flowers, and listened to Mrs.
Rawdon's chatter, and said in reply she knew not what.

A swift and exquisite excitement had followed her surprise.