The place was well patronized at this hour; and the "lady help" was
much in evidence, flying back and forth from tables to slide and
"dealing 'em off the arm" with a rapidity and dexterity that was
most amazing, Tunis thought. There was even a girl in the cashier's
cage, while the black-haired man he had paid his check to that
forenoon was walking about with a sharp eye for everything that went
on.
The Cape man started down the room for an empty seat. Somebody was
ahead of him and he backed away. A soft voice, a voice that thrilled
Tunis Latham before he saw the speaker at all, said just behind him:
"There is a seat here, sir."
He knew it was she of the violet eyes before he turned about. It
seemed to the seaman the voice matched the beautiful eyes of which
he had thought so often during the past few days. They must belong
together!
He turned to look at her. She was gathering up the soiled dishes
from a table at which was an empty seat. First of all, Tunis secured
it. Then he glanced keenly at the girl.
Would she remember him? Had his face and appearance been
photographed upon her memory as her face had been printed on his?
She did not look at him then. She was busy clearing the enameled top
of the table and wiping off the coffee stains and the wet rings made
by the water glass.
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