of the upper classes of England either extremely stupid or perfectly
willing to appear so to an American of his class.

Still, as it happened, he did meet the Princess. One night after
dinner he found her struggling with the door into the passage which
led to their adjoining apartments. She was, or pretended to be,
helpless in the wind that was blowing her down the deck as she clung
to the rail, and, quietly taking her by the arm, he pulled her back to
the door, where he held her until she was safely inside. This was all
done in a perfectly matter-of-fact manner, and she might as well have
been a steamer rug that was in danger of being blown overboard. Then
before she had time to thank him, the door was blown shut, and he had
resumed his solitary walk along the deck.

The next time that the Princess saw him, although she felt sure that
he must have known that she had looked in his direction, there was no
indication of any desire on his part to continue the acquaintance. He
had apparently entirely forgotten the episode or her existence, and
the pride of a beautiful young girl was hurt, and the dignity of
royalty offended--but the first was all that really mattered.

And so the voyage ended. The passengers all seemed perfectly willing
to go ashore, notwithstanding their assumption of indifference to the
German blockade. Edestone, as usual, was met by the fastest form of
locomotion, and before the trunks and bags had begun to toboggan down
to the dock, he was whirling up to London in the powerful motor car
belonging to his friend, the Marquis of Lindenberry. Edestone had
notified him by wireless to meet the steamer, and they were now being
driven directly to the Marquis's house in Grosvenor Square. Stanton
and Black were left behind with James, who condescended with his