The Princess stared. “Do you mean that _you_ are giving up——?” “A fine, stiff conservative’s a thing I perfectly understand,” said Paul Muniment. “If I were on the top I’d stick.” “I see, you’re not narrow,” she breathed appreciatively. “I beg your pardon, I am. I don’t call that wide. One must be narrow to penetrate.” “Whatever you are you’ll succeed,” said the Princess. “Hyacinth won’t, but you will.” “It depends upon what you call success!” the young man returned. And in a moment, before she could take it up, he added as he looked about the room: “You’ve got a lovely home.” “Lovely? My dear sir, it’s hideous. That’s what I like it for,” she hastened to explain. “Well, I like it, but perhaps I don’t know the reason. I thought you had given up everything—pitched your goods out of window for a grand scramble.” “It’s what I _have_ done. You should have seen me before.” “I should have liked that,” he quite shamelessly smiled. “I like to see solid wealth.” “Ah you’re as bad as Hyacinth. I’m the only consistent one!” the Princess sighed. “You’ve a great deal left, for a person who has given everything away.” “These are not mine—these abominations—or I would give them too!” Paul’s hostess returned artlessly. He got up from his chair, still looking over the scene. “I’d give my nose for such a place as this. At any rate, you’re not yet reduced to poverty.” “I’ve a little left—to help you.” “I’d lay a wager you’ve a great deal,” he declared with his north-country accent. “I could get money—I could get money,” she continued gravely. She had also risen and was standing before him. These two remarkable persons faced each other, their eyes met again, and they exchanged a long, deep glance of mutual scrutiny. Each seemed to drop a plummet into the other’s mind. Then a strange and, to the Princess, unexpected expression passed over the countenance of her guest; his lips compressed themselves as in the strain of a strong effort, his colour rose and in a moment he stood there blushing like a boy. He dropped his eyes and stared at the carpet while he repeated: “I don’t trust women—I don’t trust clever women!” “I’m sorry, but after all I can understand it,” she said; “therefore I won’t insist on the question of your allowing me to work with you. But this appeal I _will_ make: help me a little yourself—help me!” “How do you mean, help you?” he asked as he raised his eyes, which had a new, conscious look. “Advise me; you’ll know how. I’m in trouble—I’ve gone very far.” “I’ve no doubt of that!” Paul laughed. “I mean with some of those people abroad. I’m not frightened, but I’m worried. I want to know what to do.” “No, you’re not frightened,” Muniment returned after a moment. “I’m, however, in a sad entanglement. I think you can straighten it out. I’ll give you the facts, but not now, for we shall be interrupted—I hear my old lady on the stairs. For this you must come back to me.”