“Well, you do look genteel,” she said with high complacency. “No wonder she has lost her head! I mean the Princess,” she explained. “You never went to any such expense for her ladyship.” “My dear, the Princess is worth it, she’s worth it.” Which appeared at last on his part all seriously spoken. “Will she help you very much?” Rosy demanded, as at the touch of it, with a strange, sudden transition to eagerness. “Well,” said Paul, “that’s rather what I look for.” She threw herself forward on her sofa with a movement that was rare with her and, shaking her clasped hands, exclaimed: “Then go off, go off quickly!” He came round and kissed her as if he were not more struck than usual with her freakish inconsistency. “It’s not bad to have a little person at home who wants a fellow to succeed.” “Oh I know they’ll look after me.” And she sank back on her pillow with an air of agreeable security. He was aware that whenever she said “they,” without further elucidation, she meant the populace surging up in his rear, and he met it with his usual ease. “I don’t think we’ll leave it much to ‘them.’” “No it’s not much you’ll leave to them, I’ll be bound.” He gave a louder laugh at this and said: “You’re the deepest of the lot, Miss Muniment.” Her eyes kindled at his praise and as she rested them on his own she brought out: “Ah I pity the poor Princess too, you know!” “Well now, I’m not conceited, but I don’t,” Paul returned, passing in front of the little mirror on the mantel-shelf. “Yes, you’ll succeed, and so shall I—but _she_ won’t,” Rosy went on. He stopped a moment with his hand on the latch of the door and said gravely, almost sententiously: “She’s not only handsome, handsome as a picture, but she’s uncommon sharp and has taking ways beyond anything ever known.” “I know her ways,” his sister replied. Then as he left the room she called after him: “But I don’t care for anything so long as you become prime minister of England!” Three-quarters of an hour after this he knocked at the door in Madeira Crescent, and was immediately ushered into the parlour, where the Princess, in her bonnet and mantle, sat alone. She made no movement as he came in; she only looked up at him with a smile. “You’re braver than I gave you credit for,” she said in her rich voice. “I shall learn to be brave if I associate a while longer with you. But I shall never cease to be shy,” Muniment added, standing there and looking tall in the middle of the small room. He cast his eyes about him for a place to sit down, but she gave him no help to choose; she only watched him in silence from her own place, her hands quietly folded in her lap. At last, when without remonstrance from her he had selected the most uncomfortable chair in the room, she replied: “That’s only another name for desperate courage. I put on my things on the chance, but I didn’t expect you.” “Well, here I am—that’s the great thing,” he said good-humouredly.