"What have you to say for yourself, Paul Savelli?"
"I am at your feet."
"Why can't you come to-day?"
He explained.
"But tell Colonel Winwood that I want you"—the voice was imperious.
"Would that be wise, Princess?"
"Wise?"
"Yes. Don't you see?"
He waited for an answer. There was blank electric current whirring faintly on his ear. He thought she had rung off—rung off not only this conversation, but all converse in the future. At last, after the waiting of despair, came the voice, curiously meek. "Can you come Friday?"
"With joy and delight." The words gushed out tempestuously.