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"A--princess," said Rue in a tired, discouraged voice, "is not very likely to pay any attention to me, I think." "She's one of those Russian or Caucasian princesses. You know they don't rank very high. She told me herself. She's great fun--full of life and wit and intelligence and wide experience. She knows a lot about everything and everybody; she's been everywhere, travelled all over the globe." "I don't think," repeated Rue, "that she would care for me at all." "Yes, she would. She's young and warm-hearted and human. Besides, she is interested in art--knows a lot about it--even paints very well herself." "She must be wonderful." "No--she's just a regular woman. It was because she was interested in art that she came to the League, and I was introduced to her. That is how I came to know her. She comes sometimes to my studio." "Yes, but you are already an artist, and an interesting man----" "Oh, Rue, I'm just beginning. She's kind, that's all--an energetic, intelligent woman, full of interest in life. I _know_ she'll give you some splendid advice--tell you how to get settled in Paris--Lord! You don't even know French, do you?" "No." "Not a word?" "No.... I don't know anything, Mr. Neeland." He tried to laugh reassuringly: "I thought it was to be Jim, not Mister," he reminded her. But she only looked at him out of troubled eyes. In the glare of the pier's headlights they descended. Passengers were entering the vast, damp enclosure; porters, pier officers, ship's officers, sailors, passed to and fro as they moved toward the gangway where, in the electric glare of lamps, the clifflike side of the gigantic liner loomed up. At sight of the monster ship Rue's heart leaped, quailed, leaped again. As she set one slender foot on the gangway such an indescribable sensation seized her that she caught at Neeland's arm and held to it, almost faint with the violence of her emotion. A steward took the suitcase, preceded them down abysmal and gorgeous stairways, through salons, deep into the dimly magnificent bowels of the ocean giant, then through an endless white corridor twinkling with lights, to a stateroom, where a stewardess ushered them in. There was nobody there; nobody had been there. "He dare not come," whispered Neeland in Ruhannah's ear. The girl stood in the centre of the stateroom looking silently about her. "Have you any English and French money?" he asked. "No." "Gi
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