three semitones on the last word.

"No. She is a princess in her own right. She is a Pole."

Miss Cahere gave a little sigh.

"Poor thing," she said, looking at the Princess Wanda, with a soft light
of sympathy in her gentle eyes.

"Why do you pity her?" asked Deulin, glancing down sharply.

"Because princesses are always obliged to marry royalties, are they
not--for convenience, I mean--not from . . . from inclination, like
other girls?"

And Miss Cahere's eyelids fluttered, but she did not actually raise her
eyes towards her interlocutor. An odd smile flickered for an instant on
Deulin's lips.

"Ah!" he said, with a sharp sigh--and that was all. He bowed, and
turned away to speak to a man who had been waiting at his elbow for some
minutes. This also was a Frenchman, who seemed to have something special
to report, for they walked aside together.

It was quite late in the evening before Deulin succeeded in his efforts
to get a few moments' speech with Lady Orlay. He found that unmatched
hostess at leisure in the brief space elapsing between the arrival of
the latest and the departure of the earliest.

"I was looking for you," she said; "you, who always know where everybody