y
objection that I can see to it is that it leaves out my husband and Mrs.
Browne. They are very nice people, Saunders, and you should be more
considerate of them. Come, Mr. Browne." She took the American's arm and
gaily danced from the room. Lord Deppingham's eyes glowed with pride in
his charming wife as he followed with the heartsick Drusilla. Britt
sauntered slowly out and down the stairway, glancing back but once at
the undone Saunders.

"I would have won them over if Britt had not interfered," almost wailed
little Mr. Saunders, his eyes glazed with mortification.

"I'm getting to hate that man," said Miss Pelham loyally. "And the
others! They give me a pain! Don't mind them, Tommy, dear."

Lady Deppingham and Browne came upon the Princess quite unexpectedly.
She was in the upper gallery, leaning against the stone rail and gazing
steadily through the field glasses in the direction of the bungalow.
They held back and watched her, unseen. The soft light of early evening
fell upon her figure as she stood erect, lithe and sinuous in the open
space between the ivy-clad posts; her face and hands were soft tinted by
the glow from the reflecting east, her hair was like a bronze relief
against the dark green of the mountain. She was dressed in white--a
modish gown of rich Irish lace. One instantly likened this rare young
creature to a rare old painting.

Genevra smiled securely in her supposed aloofness from the world. Then,
suddenly moved by a strange impulse, she gently waved her handkerchief,
as if in greeting to some one far off in the gloaming. The action was a
mischievous one, no doubt, and it had its consequences--rather sudden
and startling, if the observers were to judge by her subsequent
movements. She lowered the glass instantly; there was a quick catch in
her breath--as if a laugh had been checked; confusion swept over her,
and she drew back into the shadows as a guilty child might have done.
They distinctly heard her murmur as she crossed the flags and
disappeared through the French window, without seeing them:

"Oh, dear, what a crazy thing to do!"

Genevra, peering through the glasses, had discovered the figure of Chase
on the bungalow porch. She was amused to find that he, from his distant
post, was also regarding the chateau through a pair of glasses. A spirit
of adventure, risk, mischief, as uncontrolled as breath itself, impelled
her to flaunt her handkerchief. That treacherous spirit deserted her