pose as the centre of a diplomatic situation, I go--Au Revoir.

He called a messenger, despatched the package and the letter, and
within half an hour was in a trolley car bound for Fall River.

CHAPTER VII

MISS WELLINGTON CROSSES SWORDS WITH A DIPLOMAT

As Koltsoff, who had been summoned to the telephone, returned to the
morning-room of the Wellington house, he looked about him with a
triumphant gleam in his eye. He loved the part he was playing in
Newport, a part, by the way, which he had played not always ineptly in
other quarters of the world. He loved mystery; and like many Russians,
the fact that he was a part, the centre, of any project of
international emprise, questionable or otherwise, was to him the very
breath of life. Innuendo, political intrigue, diplomatic
tergiversation--in all these he was a master. Nor did he neglect the
color, the atmosphere. Here was his weakness. Vague hints, a
significant smile here, a shrug there, a lifting of the brows--all
temptations too great for him to resist, had at times the effect of
setting his effectiveness in certain ventures partially if not
completely at naught. Temperamental proclivities are better for their
absence among the component elements of a diplomat's mental equipment.

He had now in contemplation a genuine _affaire du coeur_. Thus far,
everything had gone well. He sighed the sigh of perfect
self-adjustment, sign of a mind agreeably filled, and stretching out
his legs picked up a volume of Bourget. He fingered the pages idly for
a few minutes and then laid it aside and half closed his eyes, nodding
and smiling placidly. He sat thus when Anne Wellington entered.

Rays of sunlight, flooding through the windows glorified the girl, made
her radiant as a spirit. And the Prince, who, if genuine in few
things, was at least a true worshipper of beauty, was exalted. He
arose, bowed slightly, and then advanced with wonderful charm of manner.

"My dear Miss Wellington," he murmured, "you come as the morning came,
so fresh and so beautiful."

"How polite of you," smiled the girl. "If our men were so facile--"
she opened one of the French windows and stepped out on the veranda,
looking over the restless waters to the yellow-green Narragansett hills.

"So facile?" asked Koltsoff, following.

"--So facile in their compliments, I am afraid we should grow to be
unbearable." She paused and smiled brightly at the Prince. "And yet
women of yo