"Very much, my boy, very much indeed—in smoke."
"Someone else is improving, also," said I. "Time was when you could not have seen such pictures."
He shook his head. "It's only a sign of age. I'm becoming a dreamer; soon you will find me sitting in the sun."
"You need a wife, Courtney," I exclaimed.
He laughed. "No—I need a drink, a good stiff drink. I'm getting old, and lonely for the tried friends I've lost; you are the last deserter."
"Nonsense," I began.
"No, it's true as gospel," he went on. "Our paths separated forever at the Palace, last night. You are a Royal Highness and the possible heir to the Throne. And I am an elderly American diplomat—here, to-day; gone to-morrow."
"You need several good stiff drinks," I interrupted.
He waved aside my banter. "I give you a toast," he went on, pouring a measure for each of us. "The Princess Dehra—and another like her."
"And may you find that other," I cried.