Anne lowered an opaque veil over her face,
a precaution which the beautiful or famous or notorious of the Newport
colony invariably find necessary when abroad.

The sight-seeing drivers, with whips poised eagerly, viewed the
alighting couple and then turning to their convoy, announced in voices
not too subdued:

"Miss Anne Wellington, daughter of Ronald Wellington, the great
railroad magnate, and the Prince of Rooshia are just gettin' out,"
indicating the car with their whips. "They say they 're engaged to be
married--so far only a rumor. Miss Wellington is the one who put
little pinchin' crabs in Mrs. Minnie Rensselaer's finger bowls last
year and made a coolness between these two great families."

Miss Wellington, whose cheeks felt as though they would burn her veil,
saw Armitage's shoulders quivering with some emotion, as she hurried
from the sidewalk into the doorway of the low, dark-shingled building
and out into the circle of trim lawn and garden.

There were groups around a few of the tables in the two tiers of the
encircling promenade, but Anne did not know any of them. They strolled
on to a passageway under the structure leading to several acres of
impeccable lawn, with seats under spreading trees and tennis courts on
all sides. An orchestra was playing Handel's "Largo." The low hanging
branches sheltered many groups, dotting the green with vivid color
notes. A woman with gray veil thrown back and with a wonderful white
gown held court under a spreading maple, half a dozen gallants in white
flannels paying homage. All about were gowns of white, of pink, of
blue, of light green, Dresden colors, tones of rare delicacy mingling
with the emerald turf and the deeper green of the foliage. The spell
of mid-summer was everywhere present. To Anne it seemed as if the
Summer would last for always and that the Casino would never be
deserted again, the grass sere and brown or piled with drifts of snow.

"Isn't it beautiful!" she exclaimed, as the Prince shook his head
negatively at a red-coated page with an armful of camp chairs.

"The women," smiled the Prince, "they are superb! I concede freely the
supremacy of the American girl." He paused, "It _is_ beautiful. Yet
certainly, what place would not be beautiful where you are, Miss
Wellington! Do I say too much? Ah, how can I say less!" His eyes
were suffused with his emotions.

"Don't, please, Prince Koltsoff," she said, lowering her eyes to the
turf.