"You are a man," she said. "I wish there were more of your sort in the world where I live."
The Princess stood for a moment on the edge of the lawn, watching Andrew's tall figure as he strode across the marsh toward the village. Never once did he look back or hesitate on his swift, vigorous way. Then she sighed a little and turned away toward the house. After all, this was a man, although he was so far removed from the type she knew and understood.
Cecil was walking restlessly up and down the hall when she entered. He drew her eagerly into the library.
"Look here," he said, "Forrest declares that he is going. He is upstairs now packing his things."
"Your brother," the Princess answered, "scarcely left him much alternative."
"That's all very well," Cecil answered, "but if he goes I go. I am not going to be left here alone."
The Princess looked at him, and the colour came into his cheeks. It is never well for a man when he sees such a look upon a woman's face.
"It isn't that I'm afraid," Cecil declared. "I can stand any ordinary danger, but I am not going to be left shut up here alone, with the whole responsibility upon me. I couldn't do it. It wouldn't be fair to ask me."
"There is no fresh news, I suppose?" the Princess asked.
"None," Cecil answered gloomily. "If only we could see our way to the end of it, I shouldn't mind."