year she was a princess and he her prince.

Now, to-night, he came back for a little. It was the twilight, which
deals gently with harsh realities, and the perfume of the flowers
floating in at the open window, and the old room, doubtless. Only
yesterday he called her "Your Highness," and she had not responded.
There in the Cafe Riche none of her old dreams had returned. Perhaps
it was because all her surroundings there had been too grossly real.
That was no setting for a fairy prince, and a fairy prince was, of
course, all he had ever been or was now. He was only for the world
when the sun was low.

Outside her window she heard a voice:--

"Oh, Marjory."

She started. It was her prince calling. It was bewildering to have
dreams suddenly blended with life itself. It was bewildering also to
have the thoughts of seventeen suddenly blended with the realities of
twenty-seven. She remained silent, breathing gently, as if afraid of
being discovered.

"Marjory," he called again.

"Coming," she answered, with a quiet intake of breath.

Hatless and with a silk shawl over her shoulders, she hurried to where
he was waiting. He too was hatless, even as he had been that night
long ago when he had sat beside her. Something, too, of the same light
of youth was in his eyes now as then.

Side by side they strolled through the quaint village of stone houses
and to the top of a near-by hill, where they found themselves looking
down upon Joigny outlined against the hazy tints of the pink-and-gold
horizon.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. "It's a fairy
world."

"Better; it's a real world," he answered.

"I doubt it, Monte," she disagreed, with a touch of regret. "It's too
perfect."

It would not last. It would begin to fade in a moment, even as her
fairy prince would fade and become just Monte. She knew from the past.
Besides, it was absolutely essential that this should not last. If it
did--why, that would be absurd. It would be worse. It made her
uncomfortable even to imagine this possibility for a moment, thus
bringing about the very condition most unfavorable for fairy princes.
For, if there is one advantage they have over ordinary princes, it is
the gift of keeping their princesses always happy and content.

Somewhat shyly she glanced up at Monte. He was standing with his
uninjured hand thrust into the pocket of his Norfolk jacket, staring
fixedly at the western sky as if he ha