“Well, genius would supply that.”
“No, Maggie, no. The motive that seems to turn me into the Prince himself cannot come again. Oh, Maggie, if I succeed! If I succeed!”
“What do you mean, you strange child?”
“I cannot tell you with my voice: don’t you guess?”
“I cannot say. You move me strangely; you remind me of—I quite forget that you are Priscilla Peel.”
Priscilla laughed joyously.
“How gay you look to-night, Prissie, and yet I am told you were miserable this morning. Have you forgotten your woes?”
“Completely.”
“Why is this?”
“I suppose because I am happy and hopeful.”