“He has so many admirers,” she remarked, “that I dare say he will not notice my absence from the ranks. Perhaps I am a little prejudiced. At home, you know, we have rather strong opinions about this fusion of races.”
The Duchess raised her eyebrows.
“But a Prince of Japan, my dear Penelope!” she said. “A cousin of the Emperor, and a member of an aristocracy which was old before we were thought of! Surely you cannot class Prince Maiyo amongst those to whom any of your country people could take exception.”
Penelope shrugged her shoulders slightly.
“Perhaps,” she said, “my feeling is the result of hearing you all praise him so much and so often. Besides, apart from that, you must remember that I am a patriotic daughter of the Stars and Stripes, and there isn’t much friendship lost between Washington and Tokio just now.”
The Duchess turned away to greet a man who had paused before their couch on his way into the restaurant.
“My dear General,” she said, “it seems to me that one meets every one here! Why was not restaurant dining the vogue when I was a girl!”
General Sherrif smiled. He was tall and thin, with grizzled hair and worn features. Notwithstanding his civilian’s clothes, there was no possibility of mistaking him anywhere, or under any circumstances, for anything but a soldier.
“It is a delightful custom,” he admitted. “It keeps one always on the qui vive; one never knows whom one may see. Incidentally, I find it interferes very much with my digestion.”
“Digestion!” the Duchess murmured. “But then, you soldiers lead such irregular lives.”