e, and went to Paris
with her father and married an Italian prince last year. I have heard
from her since, and she has often wanted me to go and stay with her in
Rome--and I shall now. Morri and I are the dearest friends--and her
things did look lovely the day she came to see us at Tours--with the
prince's coronet on them--" and then the first shadow came to her
contentment. "That is the only pity about you--even with a castle, you
haven't a coronet, I suppose?" regretfully. "I should have liked one on
my handkerchiefs and note-paper."

Michael felt his shortcomings.

"The title was taken away when we followed Prince Charlie and we only
got back the land by the skin of our teeth after an awful business so I
am afraid I cannot do that for you--but perhaps," consolingly, "you will
have better luck next time."

This brought some comfort.

"Why, of course! we can get a divorce--as soon as we want. Moravia had
an aunt, who simply went to Sioux Falls and got one at once and married
someone else, so it's not the least trouble. Oh, I am glad you have
thought of this plan. It is clever of you!"

Mr. Arranstoun felt that he was becoming rather too interested in
his--_fiancee_ and time was passing. Her family might discover where she
was--or Henry might return; he must clinch matters finally.

"I think we must come to business details now," he said. "Had you not
better write a letter to Mr. Parsons that I could take, stating your
wishes; and will you also write down upon another piece of paper all the
details of your name, age--and so forth----"

He now showed her his writing-table and gave her paper and pens to
choose from.

She sat down gravely, and put her hands to her head as one thinking
hard. Then she began rapidly to write--while Mr. Arranstoun watched her
from the hearth-rug, to where he had retired.

She evidently wrote out the statistics required first, and then began
her letter. And at last she turned a rogue's face with a perplexed frown
on it, while she bit her pen.

"How do you spell indigenous, please?"

He started forward.

"'Indigenous'?--what a grand word!--i-n-d-i-g-e-n-o-u-s."

"One has to be grand when writing business letters," she told him,
condescendingly, and then finished her missive.

"There--that will do! Now listen!"

She got up and stood with the sheet in her hand, and read off the
remarkable document without worrying much about stops or commas.

"Dear Mr. Parsons:

"P