He dined oftenest at the cafe, and Elfrida's card, with "urgent" inscribed in pencil on it, was brought to him that evening as he was finishing his coffee.

She had no difficulty in getting it taken in.

Mr.Parke's theory was that a newspaper man gained more than he lost by accessibility.
He came out immediately, furtively returning a toothpick to his waistcoat pocket--a bald, stout gentleman of middle age, dressed in loose gray clothes, with shrewd eyes, a nose which his benevolence just saved from being hawk-like, a bristling white mustache, and a pink double chin.

It rather pleased Frank Parke, who was born in Hammersmith, to be so constantly taken for an American--presumably a New Yorker.
"Monsieur--" began Elfrida a little formally.

She would not have gone on in French, but it was her way to use this form with the men she knew in Paris, irrespective of their nationality, just as she invariably addressed letters which were to be delivered in Sparta, Illinois, "a madame Leslie Bell, Avenue Columbia," of that municipality.
"Miss Elfrida, I am delighted to see you," he interrupted her, stretching out one hand and looking at his watch with the other.