“Remember then definitely that I expect not to lie.” “Not even for me?” Then he added in the same familiar tone, which was not rough nor wanting in respect, but only homely and direct, suggestive of growing acquaintance: “If I was your husband I’d come and take you away.” “Please don’t speak of my husband,” she returned gravely. “You’ve no qualification for doing so. You know nothing whatever about him.” “I know what Hyacinth has told me.” “Oh Hyacinth!” she sighed impatiently. There was another silence of some minutes, not disconnected apparently from this reference to the little bookbinder; but when Muniment spoke after the interval it was not to carry on the allusion. “Of course you think me very plain and coarse.” “Certainly you’ve not such a nice address as Hyacinth”—the Princess had no wish, on her side, to evade the topic. “But that’s given to very few,” she added; “and I don’t know that pretty manners are exactly what we’re working for.” “Ay, it won’t be very endearing when we cut down a few allowances,” her visitor concurred. “But I want to please you; I want to be as much as possible like Hyacinth,” he went on. “That’s not the way to please me. I don’t forgive him—he’s very foolish.” “Ah don’t say that; he’s a fine little flute!” Paul protested. “He’s a delightful nature, with extraordinary qualities. But he’s deplorably conventional.” “Yes, if you talk about taking things seriously—_he_ takes them so,” Muniment again agreed. “Has he ever told you his life?” the Princess asked. “He hasn’t required to tell me. I’ve seen a good bit of it.” “Yes, but I mean before you knew him.” Paul thought. “His birth and his poor mother? I think it was Rosy told me all that.” “And pray how did _she_ know?” “Ah when you come to the way Rosy knows——!” He gave that up. “She doesn’t like people in such a box at all. She thinks we ought all to be grandly born.” “Then they agree, for so does poor Hyacinth.” The Princess had a pause, after which, as with a deep effort: “I want to ask you something. Have you had a visit from Mr. Vetch?” “The old gentleman who fiddles? No, he has never done me that honour.” “It was because I prevented him then. I told him to leave it to me.” “To leave what now?” And Paul looked out in placid perplexity. “He’s in great distress about Hyacinth—about the danger he runs. You know what I mean.” “Yes, I know what you mean,” Muniment answered slowly. “But where does _he_ come in? I thought it was supposed to be a grand secret.” “So it is. He doesn’t know anything; he only suspects.” “How do _you_ know then?”