e paper to Morris with a grimace. "Look at that snobbish
abomination!" she said. "_How_ good Americans would love a King and
Court all their own! It's a pity Washington didn't accept that crown
they offered him...."

But she broke off, rather dismayed at Loring's extreme fury over the
picture. She did not realise that what so enraged him was the allusion
to her as "formerly the wife of the Hon. Cecil Chesney."

"Damn it!" he fumed. "How dare they take liberties with your name! You
are my wife-- I'll teach them to accept that fact for good and all!"

The thing rankled in him for days. Indeed Sophy had cause to remember
the visit of the Crown Prince of Blauethuerme in more ways than one; for
there was a "stag dinner" given him towards the end of his stay at
Newport, and Loring was one of the hosts. It is hard to leave a "stag
dinner" in perfect equipoise of mind and body, especially when its chief
guest is a Royalty who chooses to remain until dawn, and shows a truly
regal prowess with the wine-cup. Loring returned at five o'clock and
demanded to enter Sophy's room. She had locked the door. She came to it
when she heard his voice, but refused to open it.

"Damn it! Do you turn me from your door like a beggar?" he called
angrily, rattling the knob.

"Don't talk so loud, Morris.... You'll be dreadfully sorry for losing
your temper like this to-morrow.... You'll be glad I wouldn't let you
in...."

He was quite frantic.

"Some fine day you'll shut me out too often, my lady!" he raged at her.

"Morris! The servants will hear you. Do go!"

"All right. But you won't always be able to whistle me to heel when you
want to.... I give you that straight."

He laughed coarsely. His state showed more in his laughter than in his
speaking voice.

She had never known him as bad as this. Her very soul felt sick and
faint under it. She heard him muttering as he went off along the
corridor to his own room. She went back to bed trembling. She thought
there must be _some_ way to stop it. She sat there in the chill August
dawn, thinking, thinking.

XVIII

Loring's ill humour lasted into the next day. He could not remember
clearly what had caused it, but he knew that he was aggrieved with Sophy
for something. It came to him while he was dressing. He did not get up
until two o'clock that afternoon. His man served him some black coffee
in his bedroom. As he gulped it between phases of his toilet, he
remembered suddenly: "Lo