"I suppose," she murmured to herself, "that I am looking at my best now.
I slept well last night, and a bath gives one colour, and white is so
becoming. Still, I don't know why I failed. She may be a little better
looking, but my figure is as good. I can talk better, I have learnt how
to keep a man from feeling dull, and there is my reputation. Because I
played at war correspondence, wore a man's clothes, and didn't shriek
when I was under fire, people have chosen to make a heroine of me. That
should have counted for something with him--and it didn't. I could
have taken my choice of any man in London--and I wanted him. And I have
failed!"

She threw herself back in her easy-chair and laughed softly.

"Failed! What an ugly word! He is old, and he limps, and I--well, I was
never a very bashful person. He was beautifully polite, but he wouldn't
have anything to say to me."

She began to tear open her letters savagely.

"Well, it is over. If ever anybody speaks to me about it I think that
I shall kill them. That fool Saxe Leinitzer will stroke his beastly
moustache, and smile at me out of the corners of his eyes. The Dorset
woman, too--bah, I shall go away. What is it, Annette?"

"His Highness the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer has called, milady."

"Called! Does he regard this as a call?" she exclaimed, glancing towards
the clock. "Tell him, Annette, that your mistress does not receive
at such an hour. Be quick, child. Of course I know that he gave you a
sovereign to persuade me that it was important, but I won't see him, so
be off."

"But yes, milady," Annette answered, and disappeared.

Lady Carey sipped her coffee.

"I think," she said reflectively, "that it must be Melton."

Annette reappeared.

"Milady," she exclaimed, "His Highness insisted upon my bringing you
this card. He was so strange in his manner, milady, that I thought it
best to obey."

Lady Carey stretched out her hand. A few words were scribbled on the
back of his visiting card in yellow crayon. She glanced at it, tore the
card up, and threw the pieces into the fire.

"My shoes and stockings, Annette," she said, "and just a morning
wrap--anything will do."

The Prince was walking restlessly up and down the room, when Lady Carey
entered. He welcomed her with a little cry of relief.

"Heavens!" he exclaimed. "I thought that you were never coming."

"I was in no hurry," she answered calmly. "I could guess your news, so I
had not even the spu