By
the bye," he added, "let me take this opportunity of wishing you
every happiness. I haven't seen Somerfield yet, but he is a lucky
fellow. As an American, however, I cannot help grudging another
of our most popular daughters to even the best of Englishmen."
Penelope's smile was a little forced.
"Thank you very much," she said. "It is all rather in the air, at
present, you know. We are not going to be married for some time."
"When it comes off," the Ambassador said, "I am going to talk to
the Duchess and Miss Morse. I think that I ought to give you
away."
Penelope made her way into Mrs. Blaine-Harvey's reception rooms,
crowded with a stream of guests, who were sitting about, drinking
tea and listening to the music, passing in and out all the time.
Curiously enough, almost the first person whom she saw was the
Prince. He detached himself from a little group and came at once
towards her. He took her hand in his and for a moment said
nothing. Notwithstanding the hours of strenuous consideration,
the hours which she had devoted to anticipating and preparing for
this meeting, she felt her courage suddenly leaving her, a
sinking at the knees, a wild desire to escape, at any cost. The
color which had been so long denied her streamed into her cheeks.
There was something baffling, yet curiously disturbing, in the
manner of his greeting.
"Is it true?" he asked.
She did not pretend to misunderstand him. It was amazing that he
should ignore that other tragical incident, that he should think
of nothing but this! Yet, in a way, she accepted it as a natural
thing.
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