Gwendolen paused on the threshold. For a long moment the two stood transfixed,--gazing, searching, each the face of the other. Yes, a barrier had grown between them,--the mystery of marriage, the recollection (on Gwendolen's part) of unspeakable slanders, the ghostly, intangible stirring of race antagonism, to which they themselves could not have given name. Yuki began slowly to whiten, but Gwendolen, with a backward toss of the head like Diana on a hilltop, cried out aloud, "My sister!" and the two friends, crashing through phantoms, found each other's arms. They clung close, sobbing and swaying. Whispers started, but never found conclusion. Names were repeated with every intonation of deep love. "My friend,--my Gwendolen!" "Yuki! Yuki! Yuki!" A dozen times they drew back, looked again, and clung closer. Finally they succeeded in reaching a sofa, and sat down, with hands still intertwined. "And you, little you, are the mistress of all this great house! You are to give receptions, and be the chief hostess. I suppose you will chaperon _me_, you chicken! Isn't it a joke?" "It do seem joky," admitted Yuki, with another sigh of full content. "Well, Madame la Princesse, may I give you now my first social commission? I want a prince of my own,--a Japanese prince. Let him be poor,--all the better,--but his trademark, I mean his crest, I insist on having it warranted as the real thing." "What would then become of poor Mr. Dodge?" "Mr. Dodge!" echoed the other, with greatest scorn. "You certainly never had any idea I would look twice at Mr. Dodge! Besides, he is making a fool of himself over that fat, ogling Carmen Niestra. Ugh! She reminds me of a huge suet pudding with sweet sauce. I always suspected Dodge of low sentiments." "I know not of this Miss Carmen," said Yuki, in a troubled voice. "But I like Mr. Dodge, always, very, very much; and I am sure he loved you--distractionately!" "That just about expresses it!" cried Gwendolen; and little Yuki never knew why her friend laughed so heartily, while the dark shadow of an unspoken pain still clouded her bright eyes. "Let's change the subject," the American said quickly. "Dad told me to give you lots of love, and to say that all of us were looking forward to that grand first reception of yours. Next Thursday, isn't it? No, Friday. We got our cards yesterday." "You will come and assist me in the preparing, won't you, dear Gwendolen?" "I couldn't be kept away!" "And Mrs. Todd, too. Your kind mother, will she not come?" Gwendolen averted her face. "The truth is, Yuki, mother takes Pierre's part. Nothing that dad or I can say has influence. That awful Mrs. Stunt owns mother now, body and soul; and Mrs. Stunt has no tender feelings to spare for her own sex." "I am not surprised at your mother, or even greatly hurt. It is right that--he--should have friends to sympathize. Say to your mother, please, that I do not resent."