He stepped into the long corridor
of the inn, where many people lounged about, and heard with keen
satisfaction and relief the click of a telegraph instrument that seemed
at once to bring him into contact with the remote world. He filed his
telegrams and walked the length of the broad hall, his riding-crop under
his arm. The gay banter and laughter of a group of young men and women
just returned from a drive gave him a touch of heartache, for there was a
girl somewhere in the valley whom he had followed across the sea, and
these people were of her own world--they undoubtedly knew her; very
likely she came often to this huge caravansary and mingled with them.
At the entrance he passed Baron von Marhof, who, by reason of the death
of his royal chief, had taken a cottage at the Springs to emphasize his
abstention from the life of the capital. The Ambassador lifted his eyes
and bowed to Armitage, as he bowed to a great many young men whose names
he never remembered; but, oddly enough, the Baron paused, stared after
Armitage for a moment, then shook his head and walked on with knit brows.
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