"A--princess," said Rue in a tired, discouraged voice, "is not very
likely to pay any attention to me, I think."

"She's one of those Russian or Caucasian princesses. You know they
don't rank very high. She told me herself. She's great fun--full of
life and wit and intelligence and wide experience. She knows a lot
about everything and everybody; she's been everywhere, travelled all
over the globe."

"I don't think," repeated Rue, "that she would care for me at all."

"Yes, she would. She's young and warm-hearted and human. Besides, she
is interested in art--knows a lot about it--even paints very well
herself."

"She must be wonderful."

"No--she's just a regular woman. It was because she was interested in
art that she came to the League, and I was introduced to her. That is
how I came to know her. She comes sometimes to my studio."

"Yes, but you are already an artist, and an interesting man----"

"Oh, Rue, I'm just beginning. She's kind, that's all--an energetic,
intelligent woman, full of interest in life. I _know_ she'll give you
some splendid advice--tell you how to get settled in Paris--Lord! You
don't even know French, do you?"

"No."

"Not a word?"

"No.... I don't know anything, Mr. Neeland."

He tried to laugh reassuringly:

"I thought it was to be Jim, not Mister," he reminded her.

But she only looked at him out of troubled eyes.

In the glare of the pier's headlights they descended. Passengers were
entering the vast, damp enclosure; porters, pier officers, ship's
officers, sailors, passed to and fro as they moved toward the gangway
where, in the electric glare of lamps, the clifflike side of the
gigantic liner loomed up.

At sight of the monster ship Rue's heart leaped, quailed, leaped
again. As she set one slender foot on the gangway such an
indescribable sensation seized her that she caught at Neeland's arm
and held to it, almost faint with the violence of her emotion.

A steward took the suitcase, preceded them down abysmal and gorgeous
stairways, through salons, deep into the dimly magnificent bowels of
the ocean giant, then through an endless white corridor twinkling with
lights, to a stateroom, where a stewardess ushered them in.

There was nobody there; nobody had been there.

"He dare not come," whispered Neeland in Ruhannah's ear.

The girl stood in the centre of the stateroom looking silently about
her.

"Have you any English and French money?" he asked.

"No."

"Gi