e thud of the horses' feet.

"We are to be married in June," she said somewhat defiantly. Some of the
light died in his eyes. "Prince Karl was very ill. They thought he might
die. His--his studies--his music, I mean, proved more than he could
carry. It--it is not serious. A nervous break-down," she explained
haltingly.

"You mean that he--" he paused before finishing the
sentence--"collapsed?"

"Yes. It was necessary to postpone the marriage. He will be quite well
again, they say--by June."

Chase thought of the small, nervous, excitable prince and in his mind
there arose a great doubt. They might pronounce him cured, but would it
be true? "I hope he may be fully recovered, for your sake," he managed
to say.

"Thank you." After a long pause, she turned to him again and said: "We
are to live in Paris for a year or two at least."

Then Chase understood. Prince Karl would not be entirely recovered in
June. He did not ask, but he knew in some strange way that his
physicians were there and that it would be necessary for him to be near
them.

"He is in Paris now?"

"No," she answered, and that was all. He waited, but she did not expand
her confidence.

"So it is to be in June?" he mused.

"In June," she said quietly. He sighed.

"I am more than sorry that you are a princess," he said boldly.

"I am quite sure of that," she said, so pointedly that he almost gasped.
She was laughing comfortably, a mischievous gleam in her dark eyes. His
laugh was as awkward as hers was charming.

"You _do_ like to be flattered," he exclaimed at random. "And I shall
take it upon myself to add to to-day's measure." He again drew forth his
pocketbook. She looked on curiously. "Permit me to restore the lace
handkerchief which you dropped some time ago. I've been keeping it for
myself, but----"

"My handkerchief?" she gasped, her thoughts going at once to that
ridiculous incident of the balcony. "It must belong to Lady Deppingham."

"Oh, it isn't the one you used on the balcony," he protested coolly. "It
antedates that adventure."

"Balcony? I don't understand you," she contested.

"Then you are exceedingly obtuse."

"I never dreamed that you could see," she confessed pathetically.

"It was extremely nice in you and very presumptuous in me. But, your
highness, this is the handkerchief you dropped in the Castle garden six
months ago. Do you recognise the perfume?"

She took it from his fingers gingerly, a soft flush of inte