"Sir Charles is very much in earnest," she whispered, "but very
very slow. Dicky is just the sort of man to spur him on. He
admires Penelope, and does not mind showing it. She is such a
dear girl that I should love to have her comfortably settled over
here."

"She is very intelligent," the Prince said. "She is a young lady,
indeed, for whom I have a great admiration. I am only sorry," he
concluded, "that I do not seem able to interest her."

"You must not believe that," the Duchess said. "Penelope is a
little brusque sometimes, but it is only her manner."

They made their way through the foyer to the round table which
had been reserved for them in the centre of the restaurant.

"I suppose I ought to apologize for giving you dinner at such an
hour," the Duchess remarked, "but it is our theatrical managers
who are to blame. Why they cannot understand that the best play
in the world is not worth more than two hours of our undivided
attention, and begin everything at nine or a quarter-past, I
cannot imagine."

The Prince smiled.

"Dear Duchess," he said, "I think that you are a nation of
sybarites. Everything in the world must run for you so smoothly
or you are not content. For my part, I like to dine at this
hour."