She returned his look steadily. "I own I was wrong. But a woman only proves herself to be right by always insisting that she is wrong."
"My dear Jane," cried Paul. "Since when have you become so psychological?"
"Gorblime," said Barney Bill, "what in thunder's that?"
"I know," said Jane. "You"—to Paul—"were good enough to begin my education. I've tried since to go on with it."
"It's nothing to do with edication," said Barney Bill. "It's fac's. Let's have fac's. Jane and I have been tramping the same old high-road, but you've been climbing mountains—yer and yer gold cigarette cases. Let's hear about it."
So Paul told his story, and as he told it, it seemed to him, in its improbability, more like a fairy-tale than the sober happenings of real life.
"You've said nothing about the princess," Jane remarked, when he had ended.
"The princess?"
"Yes. Where does she come in?"
"The Princess Zobraska is a friend of my employers."