"I never thought of that," exclaimed Carlton. "I don't know
but what your idea is a good one. Miss Morris, that's a great
idea." He shook his head approvingly. "I did not do wrong to
confide in you," he said. "It was perhaps taking a liberty;
but as you have not considered it as such, I am glad I spoke."

"But you don't really mean to tell me," exclaimed the girl,
facing about, and nodding her head at him, "that you are going
abroad after a woman whom you have never seen, and because you
like a picture of her in a paper?"

"I do," said Carlton. "Because I like her picture, and
because she is a Princess."

"Well, upon my word," said Miss Morris, gazing at him with
evident admiration, "that's what my younger brother would call
a distinctly sporting proposition. Only I don't see," she
added, "what her being a Princess has to do with it."

"You don't?" laughed Carlton, easily. "That's the best part
of it--that's the plot. The beauty of being in love with a
Princess, Miss Morris," he said, "lies in the fact that you
can't marry her; that you can love her deeply and forever, and
nobody will ever come to you and ask your intentions, or hint
that after such a display of affection you ought to do
something. Now, with a girl who is not a Princess, even if
she understands the situation herself, and wouldn't marry you
to save her life, still there is always some one--a father, or
a mother, or one of your friends--who makes it his business to