a Lord Somebody or Other, so she thinks he must
be of importance in the world. She herself is--just nobody, with hardly
a penny of her own, and only distant relatives who've put her in the
convent to get rid of the bother she made them. But when our heroine has
escaped in the most romantic fashion with her lover, she soon discovers
that he can't marry her, even if he wished, for he has a wife already.
And it's the wife who owns all the money. They don't live together, but
they are quite good friends, he and his wife, who's a common sort of
person, a beer-heiress or something like that. What do you think of our
story so far, Angelo? Isn't it a good plot?"

Angelo had been smoking continuously as his cousin talked, sending out
little quick puffs of smoke which, to those who knew him, betrayed
annoyance. And Idina knew him well.

"Do you want me to say what I really think, or to pay you compliments?"
he asked.

"What you really think, of course."

"Then, there's nothing new or original in your plot, to excuse
its--unpleasantness."

"But if it happens to be true?"

"Many unpleasant things are true, but why rake them up unless there's
something great in the theme that makes them worth retelling?"

"It's too soon to judge yet. You haven't heard the best part. What do
you think of the story, Princess?"

Marie, who had not ceased caressing the dog, listening with her cheek
pillowed on his silken forehead, lifted her face and returned Idina's
look. As she raised her head, Mary's heart gave a bound which took her
breath away. But it was she whose eyes were dilated, whose face was
feverishly flushed, whose breast rose and fell as if a hammer were
pounding within. The Princess was white, but scarcely whiter than usual.
Her lips were pale, and rather dry, as if she had been motoring in a
chilly wind. She was smiling; and if the smile were slightly strained
and photographic, perhaps only one who watched her in the anxiety of
love would have felt the subtle difference.

"I'm afraid Angelo's right," she said. "It's not a particularly original
plot. And--forgive me--your heroine isn't of a very interesting type, is
she? Intriguing, cold, ambitious, catty. One reads of women who give
themselves to men without love, but--they don't seem natural, at least
to me. I believe you must be mistaken in thinking your plot is a true
story."

"I can prove its truth," said Idina, quietly. "At least Miss Jewett can.
She has been getting t