ing us some cocktails and
cigarettes. Chalmers won't expect to be received formally, and
Mademoiselle Karetsky will appreciate the cosmopolitan note of our
welcome."

"We do look a little too domestic, don't we?" Maggie replied, as she
passed through the portiere which Nigel was holding up. "I'm not at all
sure that I ought to come and play hostess like this, without an aunt or
anything. I must think of my reputation. I may decide to marry Mr.
Chalmers, and Americans are very particular about that sort of thing."

"From what I have seen of him, I should think that Chalmers would make
you an excellent husband," Nigel declared, as he rang the bell. "You
need a firm hand, and I should think he would be quite capable of using
it."

"You take the matter far too calmly," she objected. "I can assure you
that I am getting peevish. I hate all Russian women with creamy
complexions and violet-coloured eyes."

"They are wonderful eyes," Nigel declared, after he had given Brookes an
order.

Maggie looked at him curiously.

"Naida is for your betters, sir," she reminded him. "You must not forget
that she is to rule over Russia some day."

"Just at present," Nigel observed, "Paul Matinsky has a perfectly good
wife of his own."

"An invalid."

"Invalids always live long."

"Presidents and emperors can always get divorces," Maggie insisted,
"especially in this irreligious age."

"Matinsky isn't that sort," Nigel said cheerfully. "Even an old gossip
like Karschoff calls him a purist, and you yourself have spoken of his
principles."

Maggie shrugged her shoulders.

"All right," she remarked. "If you are determined to rush into danger, I
suppose you must. There is just one more point to be considered, though.
I suppose you know that if you succeed any farther with Naida, you will
introduce a personal note into our coming struggle."

"What do you mean?" Nigel demanded.

"Why, Immelan, of course," she replied. "He's head over ears in love
with Naida. Any one can see that."

Nigel laughed scornfully.

"My dear child," he protested, "can you imagine a woman like Naida
thinking seriously of a fellow like Immelan?--a scheming, Teutonic
adventurer, without even the breeding of his class!"

Maggie laughed softly for several moments.

"My dear Nigel," she exclaimed, "what a luxury to get at the man of
you! I haven't seen your eyes flash like that for ages. The cocktails,
thank goodness! Shake one for me till it froths all