asier than it proved. Letter after
letter had to be torn up before Vanno was able to express on paper
anything at all which she might understand, which might soften her to
forgiveness. Even then he was dissatisfied; but something had to stand,
something had to go. "Write me at least one line," he ended, "if only to
say that you know I did not mean to insult you, in the way you thought
when you left me."

Mary was still "Miss M. Grant" to him, and so he addressed his letter.
Dawn had put the stars to sleep when he sealed the envelope, and he had
to wait for a reasonable hour before sending to her room; but he did not
go to bed, or try to sleep.

"Christmas!" he said to himself, aloud. "The day of peace on earth and
good will toward men. If she remembers, can she refuse to forgive me?"

At half-past eight he thought it might be taken for granted that she was
awake. "Don't ask for an answer," he told the young waiter to whom he
gave his sealed envelope, and the lace scarf which Mary had left in his
hands. "Say only that you're not sure whether there is an answer or not,
and you will wait to see."

Vanno had hoped the servant might be away a long time, as delay would
mean that Mary was taking time to think, and writing a reply. But in
less than ten minutes the man was at the door again.

"The lady was in, and when I gave her the scarf and letter, asked me who
had sent them," was the report. "I told her it was his Highness the
Roman Prince, staying in the hotel. Then she said, 'This scarf is mine,
but the letter must have been sent by mistake, as I do not know his
Highness.' So I have brought it back, as the lady desired. I hope I have
done right?"

"Quite right, thank you," Vanno returned mechanically, and took his own
letter. His ears tingled as though Mary's little fingers had boxed them.
If she had but known, she was more than revenged upon him for the snub
which had clouded her first dinner in the restaurant of the Hotel de
Paris.

For a moment Vanno was intensely angry, because she had dared to
humiliate him in the eyes of a servant; but by and by, when his ears
stopped tingling, he told himself that he deserved even this. He
respected her all the more, and no longer feared that she might be a
clever actress trying to lead him on. A woman who wished to attract a
man would not use so sharp a weapon.

Still, Vanno had no thought of giving up. If she would not read his
explanation she must hear it, and justify h