XXIII
"Hullo," said the Prince, who spoke admirable English.
Priscilla could only stare.
His instinct was to repeat the exclamation which he felt represented
his feelings very exactly, for her appearance--clothes, expression,
everything--astonished him, but he doubted whether it would well bear
repeating. "Is this where you are staying?" he inquired instead.
"Yes," said Priscilla.
"May I come in?"
"Yes," said Priscilla.
He followed her into her parlour. He looked at her critically as she
walked slowly before him, from head to foot he looked at her
critically; at every inch of the shabby serge gown, at the little head
with its badly arranged hair, at the little heel that caught in an
unmended bit of braid, at the little shoe with its bow of frayed
ribbon, and he smiled broadly behind his moustache. But when she
turned round he was perfectly solemn.
"I suppose," said the Prince, putting his hands in his pockets and
gazing about the room with an appearance of cheerful interest, "this
is what one calls a snug little place.
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