Page:Maud Howe - A Newport Aquarelle.djvu/207

 The eager face of the financier wore its usual anxious expression. The lines about the nose were rather deeper than usual, and his hands fidgeted nervously with his bread. His appetite was not so good as it had been on the occasion when Farwell had last observed him, but the unusually hot day might account for that.

Farwell enjoyed his dinner. After the long period in which he had lived on the most ordinary diet, the well-cooked dishes of the chef were very agreeable. He was something of a Sybarite, and the few dainties prepared by his order would have tempted the most languid appetite. A certain pilaf served with boiled truffles, made from a receipt Farwell had obtained from a well-known gastronome, attracted the attention of Hewson from his own untasted dinner to the table of his neighbor. Farwell noted the look of interest in the tired face of the speculator, and without a moment's hesitation directed the waiter to present the