The waiters were slow to serve me; the place filled speedily; and by the time I had finished my soup, nearly all the tables were occupied.
Here sat a party of officers, bronzed and mustachioed; yonder a group of laughing girls; a pair of provincials; a family party, children, governess and all; a stout capitalist, solitary and self content; a quatuor of rollicking _commis-voyageurs_; an English couple, perplexed and curious.

Amused by the sight of so many faces, listening to the hum of voices, and watching the flying waiters bearing all kinds of mysterious dishes, I loitered over my lonely meal, and wished that this delightful whirl of novelty might last for ever.

By and by a gentleman entered, walked up the whole length of the room in search of a seat, found my table occupied by only a single person, bowed politely, and drew his chair opposite mine.
He was a portly man of about forty-five or fifty years of age, with a broad, calm brow; curling light hair, somewhat worn upon the temples; and large blue eyes, more keen than tender.

His dress was scrupulously simple, and his hands were immaculately white.

He carried an umbrella little thicker than a walking-stick, and wrote out his list of dishes with a massive gold pencil.