“And isn’t it just awful?” she said, the American phrase coming prettily enough from her young lips. “Isn’t it awful to think that I shall have to entertain you all that long while?” I answered her that if my visit were an embarrassment, I could return to the yacht immediately—that I had come to see her father, and that my time was my own. To all of which she replied with one of those expressive and girlish gestures which had first attracted me toward her—just an imperceptible shrug of the shoulders and a pretty pout of protest. “Why, if you would like to go back, Dr. Fabos——” “Don’t say so. I am only thinking of your troubles.” “Then, you do want to stay?” “Frankly, I want to stay.” “Then come right in. And pity our poor cook, who expected you an hour ago.” “Really, you should not——” “What! starve a man who has come all the way from Europe to see us?” “Well, I’ll confess to a mountain appetite, then. You can tell the General how obedient you found me.” “You shall tell him for yourself. Oh, don’t think you are going away from him in a hurry. People never do who come to the Villa San Jorge. They stop weeks and months. It’s just like heaven, you know—if you know what heaven is like. We have given you ‘Bluebeard’s room,’ because of the cupboard in it—but you may look inside if you like. Let General Washington show you the way up this minute.” “And my servant? I hope he won’t give any trouble. He’s a Jap, and he lives on rice puddings. If he is in your way, don’t hesitate to say so.” “How could he be in the way? Besides, my father quite expected him.” “He said so?” “Yes, and an Irish gentleman—what was his name? The one who made love to Miss Aston at Dieppe. She’s upstairs now, reading about the Kings of Ireland. The Irish gentleman told her of the book. Why, Dr. Fabos, as if you didn’t know! Of course, he made love to her.” “In an Irish way, I hope. Perhaps we’ll have him ashore to-morrow—though I fear he will be a disappointment. His lovemaking consists largely of quotations from his stories in _Pretty Bits_. I have heard him so often. There are at least two hundred women in the world who are the only women he has ever loved. Put not your faith in Timothy—at least, beg of Miss Aston to remember that he comes of a chivalrous but susceptible race.” “How dare I intrude upon her dream of happiness? She has already furnished the drawing-room—in imagination, you know.” “Then let her dream that Timothy has upset the lamp, and that the house is on fire.”