d reconstructed that scene which now, for all her life,
would thrill her with emotional memories. There he had lain, his head
on the very indentation which the cushion still bore, his feet here,
where she had pressed her lips to them. She had actually had her hand
on his brow, she had smoothed back his hair, and had hardly noted at
the time that such was her extraordinary privilege.

She came back to the fact that he had smiled at her. It would have
been an enchanting smile from anyone, but coming from a prince it had
all the romantic effulgence with which princes' smiles are infused.
How much of that romantic effulgence came automatically from the
prince because he was a prince, and how much of it was inspired by
herself? Was any of it inspired by herself? When all was said and done
this last was the great question.

It brought her where so many things brought her, to the dream of love
at first sight. Could it have happened to him as it had happened to
herself? It was so much in her mental order of things that she was far
from considering it impossible. Improbable, yes; she would admit as
much as that; but impossible, no! To be sure she had been in the old
gray rag; but Steptoe had informed her that there were kings who went
about falling in love with beggar-maids. She would have loved being
one of those beggar-maids; and after all, was she not?

True, there was the other girl; but Letty found it hard to see her as
a reality. Besides, she had, in appearance at least, treated him
badly. Might it not easily have come about that she, Letty, had caught
his heart in the rebound? She quite understood that if the prince
_had_ fallen in love with her at first sight, there might be
convulsion in his inner self without, as yet, a comprehension on his
part of the nature of his passion.

She had reached this point when Steptoe entered the library on one of
his endless tasks of re-arranging that which seemed to be in
sufficiently good order. Putting the big desk to rights he said over
his shoulder:

"Perhaps I'd better tell madam as she's to 'ave a caller this
afternoon."

Letty sprang up in alarm. "A--_what_?"

"A lydy what'll myke a call. Oh, madam don't need to be afryde. She's
an old friend o' Mr. Rash's, and'll want, no doubt, to be a friend o'
madam too."

"But what does she know about me?"

"Mr. Rash must 'a told 'er. She spoke to me just now on the telephone,
and seemed to know everything. She said she'd be 'ere