“Am I disturbing a serious conversation?” she asked. “Send me away if I am.”
“His Excellency and I,” Dominey observed, “have reached a cul-de-sac in our argument,—the blank wall of good-natured but fundamental disagreement.”
“Then I shall claim you for a while,” Stephanie declared, taking Dominey's arm. “Lady Dominey has attracted all the men to her circle, and I am lonely.”
The Prince bowed.
“I deny the cul-de-sac,” he said, “but I yield our host! I shall seek my opponent at billiards.”
He turned away and Stephanie sank into his vacant place.
“So you and my cousin,” she remarked, as she made room for Dominey to sit by her side, “have come to a disagreement.”
“Not an unfriendly one,” her host assured her.
“That I am sure of. Maurice seems, indeed, to have taken a wonderful liking to you. I cannot remember that you ever met before, except for that day or two in Saxony?”
“That is so. The first time I exchanged any intimate conversation with the Prince was in London. I have the utmost respect and regard for him, but I cannot help feeling that the pleasant intimacy to which he has admitted me is to a large extent owing to the desire of our friends in Berlin. So far as I am concerned I have never met any one, of any nation, whose character I admire more.”