The Princess stalked in and, glad of the relief, she picked up the handsome cat. She herself looked like a princess out of a story-book.
“You answered all my questions very evasively,” he complained.
“Perhaps they were not proper questions,” she suggested as she stroked the silken back of the other princess.
“They were somewhat direct,” he admitted.
“There are some things it is very much wiser to keep to oneself,” she affirmed, looking up sharply at him.
Again he saw a resemblance between her eyes and the night sky over the orchard.
“There are some things in which that matter of so-called wisdom does not enter at all,” he returned.
“In that case caution should prompt us.”
“Caution is but a lame dog yelping at the heels of Wisdom. Shall I tell you what we discussed?”
She hesitated. There was that about him to-night which bewildered her. He was less a stranger. Perhaps it was the drowsy night; perhaps it was the fact that they stood here for the first time alone, with the dark closing about them. There seemed less to fear in him, more to fear in herself. She answered: