How much better it was, I argued, to be standing talking to her there in that old world peace, than to be dressing for a dinner at an up-to-date French restaurant.

My toilet completed, I descended to the street, hired a _fiacre_, and drove to the restaurant where I had arranged to meet my friend.

The place in question is neither an expensive nor a fashionable one.

It has no halls of mirrors, no dainty little cabinets, but, to my thinking, you can obtain the best dinner in all Paris there.

On reaching it I found my guest had been the first to arrive.