"Why, of course not," she answered, looking back into the
restaurant and listening, as though interested in the music. "He
is odd, though, isn't he? He is so serious and, in a way, so
convincing. He is like a being transplanted into an absolutely
alien soil. One would like to laugh at him, and one can't."

"He is rather an anomaly," Sir Charles said, humming lightly to
himself. "I suppose, compared with us matter-of-fact people, he
must seem to your sex quite a romantic figure."

"He makes no particular appeal to me at all," Penelope declared.

Somerfield was suddenly thoughtful.

"Sometimes, Penelope," he said, "I don't quite understand you,
especially when we speak about the Prince. I have come to the
conclusion that you either like him very much, or you dislike him
very much, or you have some thoughts about him which you tell to
no one."

She lifted her skirts. The carriage had been called.

"I like your last suggestion," she declared. "You may believe
that that is true."

On their way out, the Prince was accosted by some friends and
remained talking for several moments. When he entered the
omnibus, there seemed to Penelope, who found herself constantly
watching him closely, a certain added gravity in his demeanor.