"Then I will go to mine at once," said Daphne, smiling. "Good-bye, Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson. Good-bye, Edna." She held out her hand to both of them, but they curtsied formally without offering to take it. "Good-bye, dearest little Ruby--I hope your next governess will love you nearly as much as I do--she can't _quite_! Good-bye, Mr. Stimpson--I think you will be rather glad to be back in the City again, won't you?" "I shall, indeed, your Majesty," he said. "To tell you the honest truth, I don't think I was ever cut out for a monarch." It was Clarence's turn next, and when he saw her offering him her hand with the old frank friendliness, he had a renewed sense of his own unworthiness. "No," he said in a low voice, "you can't want to shake hands with--with such a hopeless rotter as I've been!" "I shouldn't," she replied, "if I weren't sure that you could be something very much better if you chose. And I know you _will_ choose." "I will," he said, "I swear I will--if I ever get the chance!" "Your chance will come. Quite soon, perhaps. And when it does, remember that I believe in you--and, good-bye, Clarence." "Good-bye--Daphne," he said brokenly. As he took her hand he thought with a keen pang that he had never held it before, and never would again. And the time had been--or so at least he imagined--when he might have made that hand his own for ever! "Good night, Mirliflor," said Daphne, as he held aside the hangings for her. "We shall meet to-morrow." She passed into the great Hall with a dignity the more charming for being so natural and unconscious--and that was the last Clarence was ever destined to see of her. He turned to Mirliflor, whose eyes still betrayed the pride he felt in his beloved. "I don't mind telling you, old chap--er--Prince Mirliflor, that I took to you from the start, and--as I can't be the lucky man myself, I'm jolly glad it's to be _you_!" "Thank you," said Mirliflor, who was less given to florid phrases than the average Fairy Prince. "So am I." "I dare say," Clarence went on, as he realised the contrast between his own clothes and the magnificent costume that the old Fairy had provided for her royal godson, "I dare say you're thinking we're not looking very smart?" Mirliflor was honestly able to disclaim having any impressions on the subject. "Well, these togs must seem a bit rummy to _you_--but I can assure you that, for informal occasions like the present, they're quite the right thing in England." (He had a momentary impulse to except his father's white tie, but, after all, why should he say anything about that when Mirliflor knew no better? So he decided to pass it), "Worn by the very best Society." Mirliflor politely accepted this information, and then made his farewells. Edna's good wishes were couched in a spirit of frigid magnanimity. She had too much self-respect to let him perceive that she resented his fickleness.