"It conveys nothing to me." There was a brief but apparently pointless silence.

Philippa's needles flashed through her wool with easy regularity.

Lessingham appeared to be sharing the mild curiosity which the others showed concerning the hat.
Sir Henry was standing with knitted brows, in the obvious attitude of a man seeking to remember something.
"B.

M.," he murmured softly to himself.

"There was some one I've known or heard of in England--What's that, Mills ?" "Your dinner is served, sir," Mills, who had made a silent entrance, announced.
Sir Henry apparently thought no more of the hat or its possible owner.
He threw it upon a neighbouring table, and his face expressed a new interest in life.
"Jove, I'm ravenous!" he confessed.