There was only one thing left which I might with dignity undertake--and that was to put as many miles as I could between the scene of my unappreciated labors and myself.

This I determined to do the very next day, after handing back this abominable necklace with as little obvious appearance of absurdity as the action would permit.
It was six o'clock when I reached the hotel and walked straight up to my room in sulky isolation, looking neither to right nor left, and exchanging a word with nobody.

I tossed the red box down on the table, and flung myself into an armchair.

I had half a mind to send the box down to Marie Delhasse by the waiter--with my compliments; but my ill-humor did not carry me so far as thus to risk betraying her to her mother, and I perceived that I must have one more interview with her--and the sooner the better.

I rang the bell, meaning to see if I could elicit from the waiter any information as to the state of affairs on the first floor and the prospect of finding Marie alone for ten minutes.
I rang once--twice--thrice; the third was a mighty pull, and had at last the effect of bringing up my friend the waiter, breathless, hot, and disheveled.
"Why do you keep me waiting like this ?" I asked sternly.
His puffs and pants prevented him from answering for a full half-minute.
"I was busy on the first floor, sir," he protested at last.