The Archduchess stared at me, and I gathered that she was not used to anything save implicit obedience from those to whom she made suggestions. She stared, and then she laughed softly. There was more than a spice of malice in her mirth.
"Which of you three young men are going to fall in love with her?" she asked bluntly. "You call her a child, but she is almost a woman, and she is beautiful. She will be very beautiful."
"Your Highness," I answered coldly, "it is a matter which we have not as yet permitted ourselves to consider."
The Archduchess was displeased with me, and she took no further pains to hide her displeasure.
"Mr. Greatson," she said, with a little wave of dismissal, "for the present I have no more to say."
She turned her back upon me, and I at once left the Gallery.
CHAPTER II
I walked home with but one thought in my mind. The Archduchess had put into words—very plain, blunt words—what as yet I had scarcely dared harbour in my mind as a fugitive idea. She had done me in that respect good service. She had brought to a sudden crisis an issue which it was folly any longer to evade. I meant to speak now, and have done with it. I walked through the busy streets a dreaming man. It was for the last time. Henceforth, even the dream must pass.
I found Mabane and Arthur alone, for which I was sufficiently thankful. There was no longer any excuse for delay. Mabane had taken possession of the easy-chair, and was smoking his largest pipe. Arthur was walking restlessly up and down the room. Evidently they had been discussing between them the events of the afternoon, for there was a sudden silence when I entered, and they both waited eagerly for me to speak. I closed the door carefully behind me, and took a cigarette from the box on my desk.