Vogelstein very properly reflected that it was no use his having entered the diplomatic career if he weren’t able to bear himself as if this interesting generalisation had no particular message for him. He did Mrs. Bonnycastle moreover the justice to believe that she wouldn’t have approached the question with such levity if she had supposed she should make him wince. The whole thing was, like everything else, but for her to laugh at, and the betrayal moreover of a good intention. “I see, I see—the self-made girl has of course always had a past. Yes, and the young man in the store—from Utica—is part of her past.” “You express it perfectly,” said Mrs. Bonnycastle. “I couldn’t say it better myself.” “But with her present, with her future, when they change like this young lady’s, I suppose everything else changes. How do you say it in America? She lets him slide.” “We don’t say it at all!” Mrs. Bonnycastle cried. “She does nothing of the sort; for what do you take her? She sticks to him; that at least is what we _expect_ her to do,” she added with less assurance. “As I tell you, the type’s new and the case under consideration. We haven’t yet had time for complete study.” “Oh of course I hope she sticks to him,” Vogelstein declared simply and with his German accent more audible, as it always was when he was slightly agitated. For the rest of the trip he was rather restless. He wandered about the boat, talking little with the returning picnickers. Toward the last, as they drew near Washington and the white dome of the Capitol hung aloft before them, looking as simple as a suspended snowball, he found himself, on the deck, in proximity to Mrs. Steuben. He reproached himself with having rather neglected her during an entertainment for which he was indebted to her bounty, and he sought to repair his omission by a proper deference. But the only act of homage that occurred to him was to ask her as by chance whether Miss Day were, to her knowledge, engaged. Mrs. Steuben turned her Southern eyes upon him with a look of almost romantic compassion. “To my knowledge? Why of course I’d know! I should think you’d know too. Didn’t you know she was engaged? Why she has been engaged since she was sixteen.” Count Otto gazed at the dome of the Capitol. “To a gentleman from Utica? “Yes, a native of her place. She’s expecting him soon.” “I’m so very glad to hear it,” said Vogelstein, who decidedly, for his career, had promise. “And is she going to marry him?” “Why what do people fall in love with each other _for_? I presume they’ll marry when she gets round to it. Ah if she had only been from the Sooth—!” At this he broke quickly in: “But why have they never brought it off, as you say, in so many years?”