"Do you mean to imply that there's anything shady in your life?" she cried, with laughter in her voice. "Do you expect me to believe that? No, John, you'll have your fun by plugging ahead on the beaten path—just plugging ahead."
Her mouth, a small insolent rose, dropped the words on him like thorns. John took his hat and coat from the chair and picked up his cane.
"For the last time—will you come along with me to-night and see what you will see?"
"See what? See who? Is there anything in this country worth seeing?"
"Well," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "for one thing you'll see the Prince of Wales."
"What?" She left the chaise-longue at a bound. "Is he back in New York?"
"He will be to-night. Would you care to see him?"
"Would I? I've never seen him. I've missed him everywhere. I'd give a year of my life to see him for an hour." Her voice trembled with excitement.
"He's been in Canada. He's down here incognito for the big prize-fight this afternoon. And I happen to know where he's going to be to-night."
Rags gave a sharp ecstatic cry: