In spite of herself every word they said to each
other made her feel more natural, farther away from self-torment and
sordid fears, nearer to that healthy state of mind, swamped out of her
lately, when petulance comes more easily than meekness. The mere
presence of the Prince seemed to set things right, to raise her again
in her own esteem. There was undoubtedly something wholesome about the
man, something everyday and reassuring, something dependable and sane.
The first smile for I don't know how long came and cheered the corners
of her mouth. "I'm afraid I've grown magniloquent since--since--"
"Since you ran away?"
She nodded. "Fritzing, you know, is most persistently picturesque. I
think it's catching. But he's wonderful," she added quickly,--"most
wonderful in patience and goodness."
"Oh everybody knows he's wonderful. Where is the great man?"
"In the next room. Do you want him?"
"Good Lord, no. You've not told me what you suppose I've come for."
"I did. I told you I couldn't imagine."
"It's for a most saintly, really nice reason.
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