"That is so," said Paul; "but how can my unimportant engagements have
come to the ears of Your Highness?"

"I read my newspapers like everybody else. Did you not know that there
were announcements?"

Paul laughed. "I put them in myself. You see," he explained, "we want
our Young England League to be as widely known as possible. The more
lambs we can get into the fold, the better."

"Perhaps if you asked me very prettily," she said, "I might come and
bear you speak."

"Princess!" His olive cheek flushed with pleasure and his eyes
sparkled. "It would be an undreamed-of honour. It is such things that
angels do."

"Eh bien, je viendrai. You ought to speak well. Couldn't you persuade
them to give the place a better name? Hickney Heath! It hurts the roof
of one's mouth. Tiens--would it help the Young England League if you
announced my name in the newspapers?"

"Dear Princess, you overwhelm me. But--"

"Now, don't ask me if it is wise." She smiled in mockery. "You print
the names of other people who are supporting you. Mr. John Felton,
M.P., who will take the chair, Colonel Winwood, M.P., and Miss Winwood,
the Dean of Halifax and Lady Harbury, et cetera, et cetera. Why not
poor Princess Sophie Zobraska?"

"You have a good memory, Princess."

She regarded him lazily. "Sometimes. When does the meeting begin?"

"At eight. Oh, I forget." His face fell. "How can you manage it? You'll
have to dine at an unearthly hour."

"What does it matter even if one doesn't dine--in a good cause?"

"You are everything that is perfect," said Paul fervently.

She dismissed a blissful youth. The Princess Zobraska cared as much for
the Young England League as for an Anti-Nose-Ring Society in Central
Africa. Would it help the Young England League, indeed! He laughed
aloud on the lamp-lit pavement of decorous Berkeley Square. For what
other man in the world would she dine at six and spend the evening in a
stuffy hall in North London? He felt fired to great achievement. He
would make her proud of him, his Princess, his own beautiful, stately,
royal Princess. The dream had come true. He loved a Princess; and
she--? If she cared naught for him, why was she cheerfully
contemplating a six-o'clock dinner? And why did she do a thousand other
things which crowded on his memory? Was he loved? The thought thrilled
him. Here was no beautiful seductress of suspect title such as he had
heard of during his sojourn in the Gotha Almanack world, but