She would again show him that she was not a lone and helpless woman at the mercy of the casual depredator.
"I'm taking you in to lunch with me, Mr.Dix.You can't refuse," she said; and without waiting for a reply she sailed majestically past the wretch, followed meekly by Septimus, as if she owned him body and soul.
As usual, many eyes were turned on her as she entered the restaurant--a radiant figure in white, with black hat and black chiffon boa, and a deep red rose in her bosom.

The maitre d'hotel, in the pride of reflected glory, conducted her to a table near the window.

Septimus trailed inconclusively behind.

When he seated himself he stared at her silently in a mute surmise as the gentlemen in the poem did at the peak in Darien.

It was even a wilder adventure than the memorable drive.