“You are the only American coward I have ever seen. I trust you appreciate, the distinction,” he said, his white teeth showing in malicious ridicule. “Your friend, the hero of last night, should be proud of you.”
Quentin watched them until they were lost in the crowd near the Palace, his brain full of many emotions. As he walked into the hotel his only thought was of Dorothy and the effect the quarrel would have on their friendship.
“Which will she choose?” he mused, after narrating to Savage the episode of the park. For the first time Dickey noticed the pallor in his face, the despair in his eyes, the wistful lines about his lips.
“There's only one way to find out, old man,” said he, and he did not succeed in disguising the hopelessness in his voice.
“Yes, I guess I'm up to the last trench. I'm right where I have to make the final stand, let the result be what it may,” said the other, dejectedly.
“Don't give up, Phil. If you are to win, it will take more courage than you are showing now. A bold front will do more than anything else just at this stage. The result depends not entirely on how eager she is to become a princess, but how much she cares for the man who cannot make her a princess.”
“There's the rub. Does she care enough for me?”
“Have you asked her how much she cares?”
“No.”
“Then, don't ask. Merely go and tell her that you know how much she cares. Go this afternoon, old man. O, by the way, Lady Jane sends her love to you, and wants to know if you will come with me to Ostend to-morrow to meet her and Lady Saxondale.”