"You see, it isn't as if
there was no one else. There is the prince."

Sophy felt the fingers that she was clasping grow a little colder.

"Yes," Louise repeated, "there is the prince. Sophy, I feel that I am
drifting into an impossible position. Every day is bringing me nearer to
it."

"I want to tell you this, Louise," Sophy said firmly. "John is getting
to know a great many people, and you know how men talk at the clubs.
Aren't you sometimes afraid that he will hear things and misunderstand?"

"I am expecting it every day," Louise admitted.

"Then why don't you end it?"

"Which way?"

There was a silence between the two women. The muffled street noises
from outside became the background to a stillness which grew every
moment more oppressive. Louise returned to her former attitude. She
looked steadfastly before her, her face supported by her hands.

Sophy grew paler and paler as the minutes passed. There was something
strange and almost beautiful in Louise's face, something which had come
to her lately, and which shone from her eyes only at rare intervals.

"You care for him, I believe!" Sophy cried at last. "You care for him!"

Louise did not move.

"Why not?" she whispered.

"You, Louise!" Sophy gasped. "You, the great artist! Why, think of the
men who have tried to make you care--poets, musicians--so many of them,
so many famous men! It can't be true. John Strangewey is so far apart.
He doesn't belong to your world."

Louise leaned over and stroked her little friend's hair.

"Child," she said, "that's all very true. I have had it ringing in my
brain for longer than you would believe. But now tell me something. No,
look at me--don't be ashamed. Are you in love with John yourself?"

Sophy never hesitated.

"From the very first moment I saw him," she confessed. "Don't let that
bother you, dear. He would never look at me except as a little pal. I
never expected anything from him--anything serious, of course--never
dared to hope for it. I have thrown myself at his head in the most
shameless manner. It is all no good. I never met any one like him
before. Louise, do you know that he is good--really good?"

"I believe he is," Louise murmured. "That is what makes it so
wonderful."

"It's all incomprehensible," Sophy declared wearily.

There was a ring at the front door. Louise, from her place, could see
the long, gray bonnet of John's car. Almost before she could speak, he
was announced.

"It's an