the back. But there is the chauffeur."

There was no room left for him, or for the machine either.

"Then he can go on to Joigny," announced Monte.

So Louis went on, and in less than five minutes the others were safely
sorted out and tucked away in their respective rooms.

"We ought to get out and see the sun set," Monte called to Marjory as
she waved him an adieu at her door.

"I'll be down in ten minutes," she nodded.

There is a princess latent in every woman. She makes her appearance
early, and too often vanishes early. Not many women have the good
fortune to see her--except perhaps for a few brief moments--after
seventeen. But, however, far in the background, she remains as at
least a romantic possibility as long as any trace of romance itself
remains. She is a languid, luxury-loving creature, this princess; an
Arabian Nights princess of silks and satins and perfumed surroundings.
Through half-closed eyes she looks out upon a world of sunshine and
flowers, untroubled as the fairy folk. Every one does her homage, and
she in her turn smiles graciously, and there is nought else for her to
do except to rest and be amused.

For a moment, here in the twilight, this princess returned to Marjory.
As she sat before the mirror, doing over her hair, she held her chin a
little higher at the thought and smiled at herself contentedly. She
used to do just this--and feel ashamed of herself afterward--long, long
ago, after she first met Monte at the Warrens'. For it was he who then
had been her gallant knight, without which no one may be a fairy-book
princess. He had just finished his college course, and eager-eyed was
about to travel over the wide world. He was big and buoyant and
handsome, and even more irresponsible then than now.

She recalled how one evening they sat alone upon the porch of the
Warren house until late, and he had told her of his proposed journey.
She had listened breathlessly, with her chin in her hands and her eyes
big. When she came in, Mrs. Warren had placed an arm about her and
looked significantly at her flushed cheeks and said gently:--

"Be careful, my dear. Don't you let that careless young prince take
away your heart with him. Remember, he has not yet seen the world."

He had sailed away for a year and a day soon after this; and, perhaps
because he was safely out of her life, she had allowed herself more
liberty with him than otherwise she would have done. At any rate, that