indeed was expecting him. His luggage had already arrived. He should be shown his room, and Mr. Bannister did hope that it would be.... If anything in the least wasn't....
Harkness started upstairs. There is a lift here, but if the gentleman doesn't mind.... His room is only on the second floor and instead of waiting.... Of course the gentleman doesn't mind. And still less does he mind when he sees his room.
This is mine absolutely, Harkness said, as though it had been waiting for me for years and years with its curved bow-window, its view over that enchanting garden and the line of sea beyond, its white wall unbroken by those coloured prints that hotel managers in my own country find it so necessary always to provide. Those chintz curtains with the roses are delicious. Just enough furniture. "There is no private bath of course?"
"The bathroom is just across the passage. Very convenient," said the man.
"Yes, in England we haven't reached the private bathroom yet, although we are supposed to be so fond of bathing."
"No, sir," said the man. "Anything else I can do for you?"
"No, thank you," said Harkness, smiling, as he looked on the white sunlit walls and checking the tip that, American fashion, he was about to give.
