“No, no, mamma!” interrupted the Princess, with a frown and nervous little laugh. “I said that Mrs. Brown said that she thought that Mr. Edestone was on board.” The Duchess acknowledged this correction, and with the cool effrontery that only a woman can carry off to her entire satisfaction, she then pretended that this was the first time that she had ever laid eyes on him, when as a matter of fact she and the Princess had discussed this remarkable, independent individual, who had so quietly and alone occupied the large suite adjoining theirs. “Do sit down, Mr. Edestone,” she smiled, “and tell us about your wonderful electrical gun or ship. I really know so little about electricity that I could not understand what my daughter has just been telling me.” And then, as if to save him from the great embarrassment of speaking, which she felt that he must have in her presence, she hastened to continue: “I am really so sorry that I did not know you were a fellow-passenger or I should most certainly have had you presented. I am very fond of you Americans, I find them most charming and so original, you know.” Edestone bowed. “I really became quite attached to your Mr. Bradley, who was on board. I think you call him ‘Diamond King John.’ He was most attractive,” and, with a charming smile, “he showed me his diamond suspender buttons; and he dances beautifully, my daughter tells me. I understand that Mr. Bradley is one of your oldest Arizona families--or was it Virginia?--I am so stupid about the names of your different counties. But I agree with him that family is not everything, and that clothes make the gentleman. He tells me that he gets all of his clothes from the same tailor as the Duke. Do you get your clothes in London, Mr. Edestone?” And then, seeing an expression on Edestone’s face which indicated to her that he was going to be bold enough to attempt to enter into the conversation, hastily added: “No, of course not, you would naturally get yours in New York, where Mr. Bradley tells me that the finish of the buttonholes is much better on account of the enormous salaries that you very rich Americans are able to pay your tailors. No tea, Mr. Edestone? How foolish of me to ask! You would like to have one of those American drinks; what is it you call them? Cockplumes? My son could make one for you. Madame La Princesse de Blanc taught him how to make one.” Edestone smilingly declined. The Duchess, who by this time was beginning to feel that perhaps Mr. Edestone would not insist upon taking off his coat or squatting Indian fashion on the floor, continued: “My son tells me that it was at her house in Paris that he had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.” “Yes, Duchess,” nodded Edestone. “She is a most delightful little American,” continued the Duchess. “So bright, natural, unconventional, and original. And she chews tobacco in the most fascinating manner.”