“That is different,” he said.  “I can hold my own—­anyway with Mr. Fielding.”

She lifted her brows.  “And you think I can’t?”

“I think you’ll lead a dog’s life,” he said.

“Oh, I hope not.  It won’t be on a chain anyhow.  I’ve provided against that.”

“You’ll hate it,” Green said with conviction.

“I don’t think I shall,” she answered quietly.  “If I do, I shall come away.”

“It’ll be too late then,” he said.

“Too late!” Juliet’s soft eyes opened wide.  “What can you mean?”

He made a gesture which though half-restrained was yet vehement “It’s a hostile atmosphere—­a hateful atmosphere.  She will poison you with her sneers and snobbery!”

A light began to break upon Juliet.  She sat up very suddenly.  “That sort of poison doesn’t have any effect upon me,” she said, and she spoke with a stateliness that brought the man’s eyes swiftly down to her.  “I am—­sneer-proof.”

“She won’t sneer at you,” said Green quickly.

With her eyes looking straight up to him, she laughed.

“Oh, I quite catch your meaning, Mr. Green.  But—­really I am not in the position of listening to sneers against my friends.  Now will you be satisfied?”

He laughed also though still with a touch of restraint.  “Yes, I feel better for that.  You are so royal in your ways.  I might have known I was safe there.”

“‘Loyal’ is a better word I think,” said Juliet quietly.  “Why should a paid companion aspire to be any higher in the social scale than a village schoolmaster?  Do you think occupation really makes any difference?”

“Theoretically—­no!” said Green.

“Neither theoretically nor practically,” said Juliet.  “I detest snobbery, so do you.  If you came to the Court to sweep the kitchen chimney, I should be just as pleased to see you.  What a man does is nothing.  How could it make any difference?”

“It couldn’t—­to you,” said Green.

“Or to you?” said Juliet.

He laughed a little, his black brows working comically.  “Madame, if I met you hawking stale fish for cat’s meat in the public street, I couldn’t venerate you more or adore you less.  Whatever you do—­is right.”

“Good heavens!” said Juliet, and flushed in spite of herself.  “What a magnificent compliment!  It’s a pity you are not wearing a slouch hat with an ostrich plume!  You really need a plume to express that sort of sentiment properly.”

“Yes, I know,” said Green.  “But—­I imagine you are not attracted by plumes.  In fact, you have just told me so.  Proof positive of your royalty!  It is only crowned heads that can afford to despise them nowadays.”

“Mine isn’t a crowned head,” protested Juliet.

He looked at her searchingly.  “Have you never been to Court?”

She snapped her fingers airily.  “Of course!  Dozens of times!  Poor companions always go to Court.  How often do you go!”