"Your Royal Highness will be good enough to excuse me," she said; "I ought to be with Princess Ruby by this time."
"She's all right—trying to teach the Pages hockey in the Entrance Court. And—look here, you needn't be so beastly formal—with me, you know."
"I may remind your Royal Highness that you desired me to observe the strictest etiquette."
"Did I? I only meant in public. Let's drop it just now, anyway. I've been wanting to get a talk with you. You see, you're the only person here I can really talk to; and if you only knew how awfully hipped and depressed I'm feeling——"
"Are you?" she said. "I'm sorry." And there was certainly pity in the soft grey eyes which rested on him for a moment or two.
"I give you my word," he went on, "there are times when I almost wish myself back at the office again. There were things to be done there, even if I didn't do 'em. Here there's nothing—except cards. It wouldn't be so bad if the chaps here only knew Auction—I could hold my own at that. But you couldn't play bridge with the sort of packs they've got in this God-forsaken country. So they've taught me a bally game they call 'Krebsgriff,' and I've lost over two sacks of ducats at it already. Anyone would think after that they'd treat me as a pal, but not a bit of it!"
"Perhaps, Sir, they're afraid of being rebuked for such presumption."
"Perhaps, but I don't think it's that. They're polite enough and all that, to my face, but they don't look up to me, you know!"
"Why should they?" Daphne thought, but all she said was, "That's very sad."
"Isn't it?" he said; "they don't give me a chance to show what I can do. I could knock their silly heads off at golf, and they won't even learn! And now I can't get a game; and this afternoon, when I was feeling inclined for cards, they all go off to the forest without a word to me, hunting beastly boars and bears, and I'm left without a soul to speak to."