"Honestly, I don't know you, and I don't believe I like you at all!" she exclaimed. "How dare you transform yourself into a tailor's dummy in this fashion?"
"It was entirely out of respect to you," John said.
"In fact," the prince added, "we considered that we had achieved rather a success."
"I suppose I must look upon your effort as a compliment," Louise sighed, "but it seems queer to lose even so much of you. Shall you take up our manners and our habits, Mr. Strangewey, as easily as you wear our clothes?"
"That I cannot promise," he replied.
"The brain should adapt itself at least as readily as the body," the prince remarked.
M. Graillot, who was one of the three men present, turned around.
"Who is talking platitudes?" he demanded. "I write plays, and that is my monopoly. Ah, it is the prince, I see! And our young friend who interrupted us at rehearsal yesterday."
"And whom I am anxious to have you meet again," Louise intervened. "You remember his name, perhaps—Mr. John Strangewey."
Graillot held out his left hand to the prince and his right to John.