"I would rather have it degenerate into an interest in
painters myself," said Carlton.

Miss Morris discovered, after she had returned to her own car,
that she had left the novel where she had been sitting, and
Carlton sent Nolan back for it. It had slipped to the floor,
and the fly-leaf upon which Carlton had sketched the Princess
Aline was lying face down beside it. Nolan picked up the
leaf, and saw the picture, and read the inscription below:
"This is she. Do you wonder I travelled four thousand miles
to see her?"

He handed the book to Miss Morris, and was backing out of the
compartment, when she stopped him.

"There was a loose page in this, Nolan," she said. "It's
gone; did you see it?"

"A loose page, miss?" said Nolan, with some concern. "Oh,
yes, miss; I was going to tell you; there was a scrap of paper
blew away when I was passing between the carriages. Was it
something you wanted, miss?"

"Something I wanted!" exclaimed Miss Morris, in dismay.

Carlton laughed easily. "It is just as well I didn't sign it,
after all," he said. "I don't want to proclaim my devotion to
any Hungarian gypsy who happens to read English."

"You must draw me another, as a souvenir," Miss Morris said.