e
entered.

"It is good of you to come," she said, as they shook hands warmly. "Do
you know it is almost a year since you last came to this house?"

"It would be a century, Countess, if I were not welcomed in other houses
where I am sure of a glimpse of you from time to time and a word now and
then. Still, a year's a year. The room hasn't changed so far as I can
see. The same old tiger-skin there, the rugs, the books, the
pictures--the leopard's skin here and the--yes, the lamp is just where
it used to be. 'Pon my soul, I believe you are standing just as you were
when I last saw you here. It's uncanny. One might think you had not
moved in all these months!"

"Or that it has been a minute instead of a year," she supplemented. His
quick, involuntary glance about him did not escape her understanding.
"The Duke has gone to Ganlook to play Bridge with friends," she said at
once. "He will not return till late. I have just telephoned--to make
sure." Her smile did more than to reassure him.

"Of course, you will understand how impossible it is for me to come
here, Countess. Your father, the Duke, doesn't mince matters, and I'm
not quite a fool." Tullis squinted at the fire.

"Do you think ill of me for asking you to come to-night?"

"Not at all," he said cheerfully, "so long as you are quite sure that
your father is in Ganlook. He would be perfectly justified in kicking me
out if he were to catch me here. And as I'm rather cumbersome and he's
somewhat venerable, I don't like to think of the jar it would be to his
system. But, so long as he isn't here, and I am, why shouldn't I draw up
a chair before the fire for you, and another for myself, with the
cigarettes and a world between us, to discuss conditions as they are,
not as they might be if we were discovered? Shall I? Good! I defy any
one's father to get me out of this chair until I am ready to relinquish
it voluntarily."

"I suppose you superintended the 'going-to-bed' of Prince Robin before
you left the Castle?" she said, lying back in the comfortable chair and
stretching her feet out to the fire. He handed her a match and watched
her light the long, ridiculously thin cigarette.

"Yes. I never miss it, Countess. The last thing he does, after saying
his prayers, is to recall me from exile. He wouldn't be happy if he
couldn't do that. He says amen and hops into bed. Then he grins in a far
from imperial way and announces that he's willing to give me another
chance, a