"If I were the Prince of Graustark I should first think of the happiness of my subjects. I would not offend."
"Well put, Boske, but fortunately you are not the Prince. I sometimes wish that you were. It would relieve me of a tremendous responsibility. I am not mean enough, however, to wish a crown upon you, old fellow. You are lucky to be who and what you are. No one cares what you do, so long as you are honourable about it. With me it is different. I have to be watched day and night in order to be kept from doing what all the rest of the world looks upon as honourable."
"I implore you, highness, to give up this mad enterprise and return to your people as—"
"There is only one person in the world who can stop me now, Dank."
"And she isn't likely to do so, worse luck," was the other's complaint.
"When she tells me to go about my business, I'll go, but not until then. Don't you like honey, Dank?"
"No," said Dank savagely. "I hate it." He leaned back in his chair and glowered upon the innocent, placid Jungfrau. The Prince ate in silence. "May I be permitted a question, highness?"
"All you like, Boske. You are my best friend. Go ahead."
"Did you see Miss Guile after that visit to St. Cloud—and to the police station?"
"No. Evidently she was frightened out of her boots by the Hawkshaws. I don't blame her, do you?"