her's nerves lately because
of Robert, I imagined that suspicion had been on the other side. Joyce
would have been more than human if she could go on accepting hospitality
from a woman who so plainly showed her love for Robert Lorillard.

We raced back to London, for I feared that Robert's mood might change
for the worse--that an autumn chill of remorse might shiver through his
veins.

All was well, however--very well. I made him talk to me of Joyce nearly
the whole way; and at the end of the journey I had him waiting for her
in the drawing room of my flat before he quite knew what had happened to
him.

My secretary was in her own room, writing her own letters as she'd said
she would do.

"Back already, Princess?" she exclaimed, jumping up when I'd knocked and
been told to come in. "Why, you've hardly more than had time to get
there and back, it seems, to say nothing of lunch!"

"I haven't had any lunch," I said.

"No lunch? Poor darling! Why----"

"I was too busy," I broke in. "And I wanted to get back."

"Only this morning you were longing to go!"

"I know! It does sound chameleon-like. But second thoughts are often
best. Come into the drawing room and you'll see that mine were--much
best."

She came, in all innocence. I opened the door. I thrust her in. I
exclaimed: "Bless you, my children!" and shut the two in together.

This was taking it boldly for granted that Joyce was as much in love
with Robert as he with her. But why be early Victorian and ignore the
lovely, naked truth, instead of late Georgian and save beating round the
bush for both of the lovers?

Those words of mine figuratively flung them into each other's arms,
where--according to my idea--the sooner they were the better!

I should think if my words missed fire, their eyes didn't miss, judging
from what I'd seen in hers when speaking of him, in his when speaking of
her! And certainly the pair of them couldn't have wasted _much_ time in
foolish preliminaries; for in about half an hour Joyce appeared in the
dining room, where I was eating an _immense_ luncheon.

"Oh, Princess!" she breathed, hovering just over the threshold; and
instantly Robert loomed behind her. "It's too wonderful. It can't be
true."

Robert didn't speak. He merely gazed. Years had rolled off him since
morning. He looked an inspired boy, with a dash of silver powder on his
hair. Slipping his arm round Joyce's waist he brought her to me. As I
sat at the table they b