"Oh! I'm only a German by marriage!" cried the Fürstin. "And I can assure you I quite understand--about the triumph of it...." She surveyed the achievement of her countrymen. "It is--ungracious. But indeed it's only a sort of artlessness if you see the thing properly.... It's not vulgarity--it's childishness.... They've hardly got over it yet--their intense astonishment at being any good at war.... That large throaty Victory! She's not so militant as she seems. She's too plump.... Of course what a German really appreciates is nutrition. But I quite agree with you both.... I'm beginning to want my tea, Mr. Stratton.... Rachel!" Her eyes had been on Rachel as she chattered. The girl had turned to the distant hills again, and had forgotten even to pretend to listen to the answer she had evoked. Now she came back sharply to the sound of her name. "Tea?" said the Fürstin. "Oh!" cried Rachel. "Yes. Yes, certainly. Rather. Tea." § 3 It was clear to me that after that I must as people say "have things out" with Rachel. But before I could do anything of the sort the Fürstin pounced upon me. She made me sit up that night after her other guests had gone to their rooms, in the cosy little turret apartment she called her study and devoted to the reading of whatever was most notorious in contemporary British fiction. "Sit down," said she, "by the fire in that chair there and tell me all about it. It's no good your pretending you don't know what I mean. What are you up to with her, and why don't you go straight to your manifest destiny as a decent man should?" "Because manifestly it isn't my destiny," I said. "Stuff," said the Fürstin. "You know perfectly well why I am out of England." "Everybody knows--except of course quite young persons who are being carefully brought up." "Does _she_ know?" "She doesn't seem to." "Well, that's what I want to know." "Need she know?" "Well, it does seem rather essential----" "I suppose if you think so----" "Will you tell her?" "Tell her yourself, if she must be told. Down there in Surrey, she _must_ have seen things and heard things. But I don't see that she wants a lot of ancient history." "If it is ancient history!" "Oh! two years and a half,--it's an Era." I made no answer to that, but sat staring into the fire while my cousin watched my face. At length I made my confession. "I don't think it is ancient history at all," I said. "I think if I met Mary again now----" "You mean Lady Mary Justin?" "Of course." "It would be good for your mind if you remembered to call her by her proper name.... You think if you met her again you two would begin to carry on. But you see,--you aren't going to meet her. Everybody will see that doesn't happen." "I mean that I---- Well----" "You'd better not say it. Besides, it's nonsense. I doubt if you've given her a thought for weeks and weeks."