n very rare occasions, and then under compulsion. He turned to the
Duchess.

"A few days ago," he said, "I heard myself described as being much
too serious a person. Tonight I am afraid that I am living up to my
reputation. Our conversation seems to have drifted into somewhat gloomy
channels. We must ask Miss Morse, I think, to help us to forget. They
say," he continued, "that it is the young ladies of your country who
hold open the gates of Paradise for their menkind."

He was looking into her eyes. His tone was half bantering, half serious.
From across the table Penelope knew that Somerfield was watching her
closely. Somehow or other, she was irritated and nervous, and she
answered vaguely. Sir Charles intervened with a story about some of
their acquaintances, and the conversation drifted into more ordinary
channels.

"Some day, I suppose," the Duchess remarked, as the service of dinner
drew toward a close, "you will have restaurants like this in Tokio?"

The Prince assented.

"Yes," he said without enthusiasm, "they will come. Our heritage from
the West is a sure thing. Not in my days, perhaps, or in the days of
those that follow me, but they will come."

"I think that it is absolutely wicked of Dicky," the Duchess declared,
as they rose from the table. "I shall never rely upon him again."

"After all, perhaps, it isn't his fault," Penelope said, breathing a
little sigh of relief as she rose to her feet. "Mr. Harvey is not always
considerate, and I know that several of the staff are away on leave."

"That's right, my dear," the Duchess said, smiling, "stick up for your
countrymen. I suppose he'll find us sometime during the evening. We can
all go to the theatre together; the omnibus is outside."

The little party passed through the foyer and into the hall of the
hotel, where they waited while the Duchess' carriage was called. Mr.
Coulson was there in an easy chair, smoking a cigar, and watching
the people coming and going. He studied the passers-by with ah air of
impersonal but pleased interest. Penelope and Lady Grace were certainly
admirable foils. The latter was fair, with beautiful complexion--a
trifle sunburnt, blue eyes, good-humored mouth, and features excellent
in their way, but a little lacking in expression. Her figure was good;
her movements slow but not ungraceful; her dress of white ivory satin a
little extravagant for the occasion. She looked exactly what she was,--a
well-bred, well-disposed,