"I have replied that I do myself the honour of accepting the Princess's gracious invitation."
"I don't like London, do you?" she asked, allowing a touch of wistfulness to inflect her voice.
"It has its charms. A row on the Serpentine, for instance, or a bicycle ride in Battersea Park."
"How lovely it would be," she said, between laugh and sigh, "if only it could be kept out of the newspapers! I see it from here under the Fashionable Intelligence. 'The beautiful Princess Zobraska was observed in a boat on the ornamental water in Regent's Park with the well-known—tiens—what are you?—politician, say—with the well-known young politician, Mr. Paul Savelli.' Quel scandale, hein?"
"I must content myself with kissing your finger tips at your reception," said Paul.
She smiled. "We will find a means," she said.
At her reception, an assemblage glittering with the diamonds and orders of the great ones of the earth, she found only time to say: "Come to-morrow at five. I shall be alone."
Darkness descended on Paul as he replied: "Impossible, Princess. Colonel Winwood wants me at the House."
The next morning, greatly daring, he rang her up; for a telephone stood on the Fortunate Youth's table in his private sitting-room in Portland Place.
"It is I, Princess, Paul Savelli."