th her sweetest, most childlike expression, and prattled
dainty nonsense, unchecked by his lack of response. Presently he began
to smile; it was impossible to resist Jean when she set herself to
charm, but once and again the murmured answers missed the point, and she
was conscious that, though his thoughts were absorbed in herself, he was
paying scant heed to her words. The mysterious nervousness which had
affected her at his first gaze returned to Jean once more in the process
of this one-sided conversation; she turned her head to where the three
ladies were sitting, and met Edith Morton's eyes fixed upon herself with
an intensity of scrutiny which aroused a quick suspicion.

Edith did not care to see her guest monopolised; she was not content to
be banished to the end of the room. Jean smiled and raised her voice,
addressing her directly by name, so as to show her desire for a general
conversation.

"I have been telling Mr Gloucester, Edith, that when I was very good
you used to read me extracts from his letters, and thrill me by
repeating his adventures. They were such nice, full, detaily letters.
I think you would get a prize in a foreign correspondence competition,
Mr Gloucester. Most men write such scrappy notes."

"Ah, I should have been ungrateful if I had done that, for Edith sent me
such splendid letters from home. No one knows how a fellow appreciates
letters when he is abroad--a blank mail is a blighting experience.
Edith has been a brick to me in that way; as good as any sister."

He smiled at the girl as he spoke, and Edith Morton smiled bravely back.
Gloucester saw nothing strained or unnatural in that smile, but the
three women divined its secret with lightning intuition. Poor Edith who
had watched and waited all these years, counting each day as it passed,
enduring a grey present in the hope of a golden future which would
surely begin when the Prince returned to his own. And now her long wish
was fulfilled--her hero was restored to her side, not unconscious of her
care, but full of gratitude and affection. He smiled at her with kindly
eyes, he paid her public thanks, he compared her to a sister, and
Edith's heart cramped with despair.

She was a tall, slight girl, with dark hair, a dull complexion, and
pretty eyes. She dressed tastefully, though without style, and spoke
with a delightfully clear, musical intonation. When addressed she had a
trick of drooping her head, which gave her a som