The Australian smiled generously, and burrowed his hands deeper into his capacious pockets.
Very timidly the erring daughter of France shifted closer to her protector, and her hand reached appealingly for his, which caused all eyes but the Australian's to disappear like the legs of a troupe of Japanese acrobats from a cross-bar.
"Your Majesty——" she said.
"Hush, Pippa. You must call me just 'monsieur.'"
"But why?"
"Well—you see, a prince is very important, and——"
"Then that is why these people are so solemn? They know you are a prince, yes?"
The airman tapped the bridge of his nose meditatively. "N-not exactly," he said.
"But they are so sad."
"They are," he agreed; "but my countrymen sink to their greatest melancholy when they travel."