advisable to send a convalescent to one of the large and
busy hotels; neither did he think it proper to reserve rooms for her at
an ordinary boarding-house, where she would sit at the same table with
department-employees and congressmen. So he compromised on a very
exclusive hotel patronized by legislators who had money of their own, by
many of the titled attaches of the embassies, and by families that came
during the season with the hope of edging their way into official
society. He explained to the manager of the hotel that the Princess
Kalora was an invalid, would require secluded apartments, and probably
would not care to meet any of the other persons living at the hotel.

Within a week after the rooms had been reserved the invalid drove up to
the Legation to thank the Secretary for his kindness. Now, the Secretary
had lived in modern capitals for many years, was trained in diplomacy,
and had schooled himself never to appear surprised. But the Princess
Kalora fairly bowled him over. He had pictured her as a wan and waxen
creature, who would be carried to the hotel in a closed carriage or
ambulance, there to recline by the windowside and look out at the
rustling leaves. He had decided, after hours of deliberation, that the
etiquette of the situation would be for some member of the Legation to
call upon her about once a week and take flowers to her.

And here was the invalid, bounding out of a coupe, tripping up the front
steps and bursting in upon him like an untamed Amazon from the prairies
of Nebraska. She wore a tailor-made suit of dark material, a sailor hat,
tan gloves with big welts on the back and stout, low-heeled Oxfords.
This was the young woman who had come five thousand miles to improve
her health! This was the child of the Orient, and in the Orient, woman
is a hothouse flower. This was the timid young recluse to whom the
soft-spoken diplomats were to carry a few roses about once a week.

Why had she called upon the Secretary? First, to thank him for having
engaged the rooms; second, to invite him to take her out to a country
club and teach her the game of golf. She had heard people at the hotel
talking about golf. The game had been strongly commended to her by a
congressman's daughter, with whom she had ascended to the top of the
Washington Monument.

When the Secretary, having recovered his breath, asked if she felt
strong enough to attempt such a vigorous game, she was moved to silvery
laughter. Sh