As Newman approached, he received from Mrs.Tristram a glance of the most vivid significance, which he was not immediately able to interpret.
"This is a good friend of ours," she said, turning to her companion, "Mr.Christopher Newman.

I have spoken of you to him and he has an extreme desire to make your acquaintance.

If you had consented to come and dine, I should have offered him an opportunity." The stranger turned her face toward Newman, with a smile.

He was not embarrassed, for his unconscious sang-froid was boundless; but as he became aware that this was the proud and beautiful Madame de Cintre, the loveliest woman in the world, the promised perfection, the proposed ideal, he made an instinctive movement to gather his wits together.
Through the slight preoccupation that it produced he had a sense of a long, fair face, and of two eyes that were both brilliant and mild.
"I should have been most happy," said Madame de Cintre.

"Unfortunately, as I have been telling Mrs.Tristram, I go on Monday to the country." Newman had made a solemn bow.