hat several others wanted him. It's akin to the
satisfaction you feel, I imagine, when you suddenly appear before the
public as owner of the controlling interest in a competitor's railroad."

"I understand," he replied, and gazed at his wife admiringly. "If I
had been as good a railroad man as you are a social diplomat, I should
be the only railroad man in the country." He laughed his hearty laugh
and then glanced at her seriously. "Well, what about Anne?" he asked.

Mrs. Wellington was about to reply when her secretary entered.

"Prince Koltsoff is in the library waiting to pay his respects," said
the young woman. "He seemed a little impatient and I told him I would
tell you."

"Oh," said Mr. Wellington, as an expression of annoyance crossed his
wife's face, "let him come right in."

As he towered over the Prince, seizing his hand with a grip that made
the latter wince, Mrs. Wellington could not help noticing a veiled
expression of contempt in the nobleman's face. She was aware that to
him, her husband represented, of course, the highest plane of existence
that Americans attain to, and she could see that the things in him, the
things he stood for and had done, which would impress the average
American or perhaps the Englishman, carried no appeal to this Russian.
To him, she read, Ronald Wellington, in his great, bagging, ill-fitting
clothes, was merely an embodiment of the American pig, whose only title
to consideration was the daughter he had to give, and his only warrant
of respect, his wealth.

"Sit down, Koltsoff," said her husband heartily, but studying him
keenly from under his shaggy brows.

"Thank you," replied the Prince, seating himself luxuriously in a great
leather chair. "As you must know, Mr. Wellington," he said, at the
same time inclining his head toward Mrs. Wellington, "time presses for
men in my sphere of life--the diplomatic; that is why I felt I must
speak to you at once."

"Certainly," said Mr. Wellington, glancing at his wife, "fire away."

"Your daughter," began the Prince, "I am deeply interested in her.
I--" he stopped and smiled.

Mr. Wellington nodded.

"Go on," he said gruffly, now.

"I--I believe I love her."

"You believe?"

"In fact, I do love her. It is about that I wish to speak to you--as
to the dower. Naturally the sum you would propose--"

"Wait just a second. Not so fast," said Mr. Wellington. "Does my
daughter love--wish to marry you?"

"I have reaso