gh at me," John protested good-humoredly.

"On the contrary," the prince assured him, as he fitted a cigarette into
a long, amber tube, "they want to laugh with you. You ought to realize
your value as a companion in these days. You are the only person who can
see the truth. Eyes and tastes blurred with custom perceive so little.
You are quite right when you say that these women are like manikins;
that their bodies and faces are lost; but one does not notice it until
it is pointed out."

"We will revert," Louise decided, "to a more primitive life. You and I
will inaugurate a missionary enterprise, Mr. Strangewey. We will judge
the world afresh. We will reclothe and rehabilitate it."

The prince flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette.

"Morally as well as sartorially?" he asked.

There was a moment's rather queer silence. The music rose above the
hubbub of voices and died away again. Louise rose to her feet.

"Quite an intelligent person, really," she said, moving her head in the
direction of the prince. "His little attacks of cynicism come only with
indigestion or after absinth. Now, if you like, you shall escort me
home, Mr. Strangewey. I want to show him exactly where I live," she
explained, addressing the others, "so that he will have no excuse for
not coming to pay his respects to me to-morrow afternoon."

The prince, with a skilful maneuver, made his way to her side as they
left the restaurant.

"To-morrow afternoon, I think you said?" he repeated quietly. "You will
be in town then?"

"Yes, I think so."

"You have changed your mind, then, about--"

"M. Graillot will not listen to my leaving London," she interrupted
rapidly. "He declares that it is too near the production of the play. My
own part may be perfect, but he needs me for the sake of the others. He
puts it like a Frenchman, of course."

They had reached the outer door, which was being held open for them by a
bowing commissionnaire. John and Sophy were waiting upon the pavement.
The prince drew a little back.

"I understand!" he murmured.

IX

The first few minutes that John spent in Louise's little house were full
of acute and vivid interest. From the moment of his first meeting with
Louise upon the moonlit Cumberland road, during the whole of that next
wonderful morning until their parting, and afterward, through all the
long, dreaming days and nights that had intervened, she had remained