“I will tell you what I think!” she exclaimed. “I think that you are all guilty of the most ridiculous presumption in criticising such a man as the Prince. You would dare--you, Captain Wilmot, and you, Charlie, and you, Mr. Hannaway,” she added, turning to the third young man, “to stand there and tell us all in a lordly way that the Prince is no sportsman, as though that mysterious phrase disposed of him altogether as a creature inferior to you and your kind! If only you could realize the absolute absurdity of any of you attempting to depreciate a person so immeasurably above you! Prince Maiyo is a man, not an overgrown boy to go through life shooting birds, playing games which belong properly to your schooldays, and hanging round the stage doors of half the theatres in London. You are satisfied with your lives and the Prince is satisfied with his. He belongs to a race whom you do not understand. Let him alone. Don’t presume to imagine yourselves his superior because he does not conform to your pygmy standard of life.” Penelope was standing now, her slim, elegant form throbbing with the earnestness of her words, a spot of angry color burning in her cheeks. During the moment’s silence which followed, Lady Grace too rose to her feet and came to her friend’s side. “I agree with every word Penelope has said,” she declared. The Duchess smiled. “Come,” she said soothingly, “we mustn’t take this little affair too seriously. You are all right, all of you. Every one must live according to his bringing up. The Prince, no doubt, is as faithful to his training and instincts as the young men of our own country. It is more interesting to compare than to criticise.” Somerfield, who for a moment had been too angry to speak, had now recovered himself. “I think,” he said stiffly, “that we had better drop the subject. I had no idea that Miss Morse felt so strongly about it or I should not have presumed, even here and amongst ourselves, to criticise a person who holds such a high place in her esteem. Everard, I’ll play you a game of billiards before we go upstairs. There’s just time.” Captain Wilmot hesitated. He was a peace-loving man, and, after all, Penelope and his friend were engaged. “Perhaps Miss Morse--” he began. Penelope turned upon him. “I should like you all to understand,” she declared, “that every word I said came from my heart, and that I would say it again, and more, with the same provocation.” There was a finality about Penelope’s words which left no room for further discussion. The little group was broken up. She and Lady Grace went to their rooms together. “Penelope, you’re a dear!” the latter said, as they mounted the stairs. “I am afraid you’ve made Charlie very angry, though.” “I hope I have,” Penelope answered. “I meant to make him angry. I think that such self-sufficiency is absolutely stifling. It makes me sometimes almost loathe young Englishmen of his class.”