p that woman here," she asked, "now that Brott has broken
away from her altogether?"

Lady Carey laughed meaningly.

"Better ask the Prince," she remarked.

The Duchess frowned.

"My dear Muriel," she said, "I think that you are wrong to make such
insinuations. I am sure that the Prince is too much devoted to our cause
to allow any personal considerations to intervene."

Lady Carey yawned.

"Rats!" she exclaimed.

The Duchess took up her knitting, and went on with it without remark.
Lady Carey burst out laughing.

"Don't look so shocked," she exclaimed. "It's funny. I can't help being
a bit slangy. You do take everything so seriously. Of course you can see
that the Prince is waiting to make a fool of himself over Lucille. He
has been trying more or less all his life."

"He may admire her," the Duchess said. "I am sure that he would not
allow that to influence him in his present position. By the bye, she is
anxious to leave us now that the Brott affair is over. Do you think that
the Prince will agree?"

Lady Carey's face hardened.

"I am sure that he will not," she said coolly. "There are reasons why
she may not at present be allowed to rejoin her husband."

The Duchess used her needles briskly.

"For my part," she said, "I can see no object in keeping her here any
longer. Mr. Brott has shown himself quite capable of keeping her at
arm's length. I cannot see what further use she is."

Lady Carey heard the flutter of skirts outside and rose.

"There are wheels within wheels," she remarked. "My dear Lucille, what
a charming toilette. We shall have the lady journalists besieging us
in our box. Paquin, of course. Good-night, Duchess. Glad to see you're
getting on with the socks, or stockings, do you call them?"

Insolent aristocratic, now and then attractive in some strange
suggestive way, Lady Carey sat in front of the box and exchanged
greetings with her friends. Presently the Prince came in and took the
chair between the two women. Lady Carey greeted him with a nod.

"Here's Lucille dying to return to her lawful husband," she remarked.
"Odd thing, isn't it? Most of the married women I ever knew are dying
to get away from theirs. You can make her happy or miserable in a few
moments."

The Prince leaned over between them, but he looked only at Lucille.

"I wish that I could," he murmured. "I wish that that were within my
power."

"It is," she answered coolly. "Muriel is quite right. I am most anxio