The boy's eyes fell. He mumbled. “Ouch! You landed there, I guess.” Then he raised his eyes. “I can't help myself--whatever I am--but I can start fresh, can't I? That's what I'm going to do, anyhow--start fresh.” He squared himself. His lip quivered. “Will you take me in there to the viceroy, and translate my apology?” Doane stood a moment in silence. Then he replied, quietly, “Yes.” And led the way into the social hall. He found himself watching, like a spectator, the little scene.... the viceroy rising, with a quiet smile, a gentle old man, awaiting with perfect courtesy of bearing whatever might be forthcoming; Rocky Kane, seeming younger than before, with, in fact, the appearance of an excited boy, the wild look still in his eyes but the face set with supreme determination. Doane observed now that he had a good forehead, wide and not too high. The nose was slightly aquiline, like his father's. The eyes, so dark now, were normally blue; the mouth sensitive; the skin fine in texture. “Tell him”--thus the boy--“tell him I acted like a dirty cad, that I know better, and--and ask his pardon.” Doane translated discreetly. A dance was just ending, and curious eyes were bent on the group. The mandarins stood behind the viceroy, all gracefully at ease in their rich rubes. His excellency, without relaxing that smile, replied in musical intonation. “What is it?” asked Rocky Kane, under his breath, all quivering excitement; “what does he say?” “That he accepts your apology, with appreciation of your manliness.” Young Kane's nervous frown relaxed at this. He was pleased. “Will you,” he was saying now, “will you ask if I may dance with the princess?” Doane complied. He felt now a strain of fineness in this ungoverned boy that was oddly moving to his own emotion-clouded brain.... Hoi Fei was approaching, the Australian at her side. “He suggests”--Doane found himself translating--“that you ask her. He does not know what engagements she may have made.” The boy bit his lip. And then the princess was greeting the mate. “It's nice to see you, Mr. Doane,” she was saying. “I wondered if you weren't coming to the party.” It seemed to Doane that he could feel young Kane's devouring eyes fastened on her. The moment had come in which he must act. The Australian, sensing a situation, thanked the princess and slipped away. Quietly, Doane said: “Miss Hui Fei, this is Mr. Kane, who has asked permission to meet you.” She drew back a very little; Doane caught that; yet the courtesy of her race did not fail her. She inclined her pretty head; even smiled. “Should I speak English?” asked the boy, out of sheer confusion; then: “Miss Hui Fei”--he was white; the words came slowly, almost coldly, between set teeth--“I am sorry for my rotten behavior the other night.” That was all. He waited. Miss Hui's smile faded.