"You're sure you won't tell?"
"Dead sure."
(Was that a flag fluttering on the horizon?)
"Well, then—it isn't my business, of course. But one can't help being interested in him, he's such a—such a romantic sort of figure, as you said yourself. And there's something so high and noble about him—I mean, about his looks and manners—that one hates to be disappointed."
"You would have him with us, you know!"
"I know. And—and I'm glad I—we—have got him. It's a—it's an experience. I suppose he's rather wonderful. But don't you think he ought to remember that he isn't exactly a prince? He isn't even called Bey. And if he were, its not the same as being a prince of Ancient Egypt."
"In what way has he presumed on his—er—near—princehood?"
"I believe he has—fallen in love with Biddy!"
"By Jove! Let the flag flutter!"
"What flag?"