"Gwendolen, dear,—no!" said Yuki, pressing her hand. "It is most terribly serious time with all. I am glad to have Mr. Dodge here; he will not prevent any help,—he will give it. I must now relate, Mr. Dodge," she went on, very brave and self-possessed, "the new, strange circumstance—" Suddenly she flushed the color of a peony, dropped her face in her hands, and murmured to Gwendolen, "Yes, you must say it, Gwendolen. It is such immodest things for Japanese girl to speak! You tell him."
"I'm not sure that I understand very clearly myself," said Gwendolen, with a puzzled frown.
Iriya stared on, white, motionless, unsmiling.
"As far as I can make the trouble out," said Gwendolen, flinging her words to Dodge, rather than speaking them, "Prince Haganè backs Yuki's father, utterly, against Pierre. They won't consider the possibility of her ever marrying him. Worst of all, while her heart is sore with this, they are trying to force her into marriage with some rich old man,—some influential relative, I believe, of Haganè. Isn't he a relative, Yuki?"
"No-o! He is not the relative," said Yuki, from behind sheltering hands. "It is himself—he—the Prince Haganè!"
"Prince Haganè! Prince Sanètomo Haganè?" cried Dodge, in incredulous surprise. "Good Lord! Why, he's the biggest man in this kingdom, next to the Emperor and the Crown Prince! Has—has he made your father a formal offer of marriage for you, Miss Yuki?"
"The old sport! So this has been his game," muttered Gwendolen to herself.
At the full name of Haganè, a wintry smile of pride had flashed into Iriya's set face.
"Whe-e-ew!" whistled Dodge, again. He could not get this wonder fixed. "I see now why your family is wound up like a spring, Miss Yuki. It's a superlative opportunity for you!"