"Aunt," she said, "if you are ready, I think that we ought to
go."
The Duchess was more than ready. She rose promptly. The Prince
walked with them to the door and handed them over to his
majordomo.
"It has been so nice of you," he said to the Duchess, "to honor
my bachelor abode. I shall often think of your visit."
"My dear Prince," the Duchess declared, "it has been most
interesting. Really, I found it hard to believe, in that charming
room of yours, that we had not actually been transported to your
wonderful country."
"You are very gracious," the Prince answered, bowing low.
Penelope's hands were within her muff. She was talking some
nonsense--she scarcely knew what, but her eyes rested everywhere
save on the face of her host. Somehow or other she reached the
door, ran down the steps and threw herself into a corner of the
brougham. Then, for the first time, she allowed herself to look
behind. The door was already closed, but between the curtains
which his hands had drawn apart, Prince Maiyo was standing in the
room which they had just quitted, and there was something in the
calm impassivity of his white, stern face which seemed to madden
her. She clenched her hands and looked away.
"Really, I was not so much bored as I had feared," the Duchess
remarked composedly. "That Stretton-Wynne woman generally gets on
my nerves, but her nephew seemed to have a restraining effect
upon her. She didn't tell me more than once about her husband's
bad luck in not getting Canada, and she never even mentioned her
girls.
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