There was no one in the pretty American-looking drawing-room when Nathalie ushered her in. Throwing a quick glance around, the Princess chose a chair so placed that her back was turned not only to the window but to a table with an electric lamp on it, which would in all probability soon be lighted. Hardly was she seated, when the door was thrown open quickly, and Mary came in.
Princess Della Robbia rose, her left arm thrust into her big ermine muff, so that her right hand might be free if it must be given in greeting. But she did not step forward as if eager to greet Vanno's fiancée.
"Princess Della Robbia?" Mary said, rather shyly. "How good of you to come to see me."
She put out her hand and took that of the Princess. This brought them close together, and as they were of nearly the same height, they looked into each other's faces, though the Princess still kept her head slightly bent, her eyes and forehead in shadow.
"Marie Grant!"
Mary cried out the name sharply.
"Hush!" said the Princess, with a convulsive pressure on the other's hand. "For God's sake! Don't ruin me!"
Mary, with the last rays of afternoon light full on her face, turned pale to the lips, and the pupils of her eyes seemed to dilate.
"Oh, Marie, darling!" she faltered. "I wouldn't ruin you for the world—not to save my life. I—it was only that I was so surprised. I'm glad—very glad to see you. I've dreamed of you a thousand times—and just before coming to Monte Carlo, too. I expected some one else when I came into this room, a Princess Della Robbia——"
"I am Princess Della Robbia," Marie said in a veiled, dead voice.