“How can I help it when you’re so mean and ugly? You told me you could fix things, and I thought you had fixed them right away. And then you have all of this happen!”
“Now look here, Fay,” Maimie grasped her shoulder. “If I operate my scheme right now, will you promise to give up Usk and marry the King? I won’t go a step without knowing that.”
“I don’t feel like giving him up until you have got things fixed. If they should chance to go wrong, I would just find myself left.”
“It may be some time before they go right, I grant that, but you must take some risks. Well, if I let you stay engaged to Usk for the present, will you break off with him when I give the word?”
“Ye-es, but you’ll have to be quite sure about it.”
“I’ll see to that. Where did you leave the King?”
“On the second terrace. He was real sorry to have to say what he did, but I was so mad I wouldn’t stop,” said Félicia, with a curious kind of self-satisfaction.
“It must be real nice to be able to love folks according to what they can give you!” soliloquised Maimie, as she went in search of the King. “She would accept Usk when there was no other man in view, but now the Baron holds the winning cards—unless there should be any fascinating emperors around before we get things fixed. But here’s the lucky man!”
King Michael was walking from end to end of the terrace, smoking moodily. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, and the blackest possible frown was on his brow. He was hard hit, Maimie saw, and scarcely likely to welcome the appearance of the person to whom he might consider that he owed his present unhappy frame of mind, but she met him boldly.
“Say, Baron,” she said, placing herself in his path, “is it true you’ve told my Félicia you love her, but can’t marry her?”