“Genevra,” said Lady Agnes solemnly, “if you’d been on a barren island for five months as I have, with nothing to look at but your husband and the sunsets, you would not be so hard on me.  I wouldn’t take Drusilla’s husband away from her for the world; I wouldn’t even look at him if he were not on the barren island, too.  I’ve read novels in which a man and woman have been wrecked on a desert island and lived there for months, even years, in an atmosphere of righteousness.  My dear, those novelists are ninnies.  Nobody could be so good as all that without getting wings.  And if they got wings they’d soon fly away from each other.  Angels are the only creatures who can be quite circumspect, and they’re not real, after all, don’t you know.  Drusilla may not know it yet, but she’s not an angel, by any means; she’s real and doesn’t know it, that’s all.  I am real and know it only too well.  That’s the difference.  Now, come along.  Let’s have a walk.  I’m tired of men and angels.  That’s why I want you for awhile.  You’ve got no wings, Genevra; but it’s of no consequence, as you have no one to fly away from.”

“Or to, you might add,” laughed Genevra.

“That’s very American.  You’ve been talking to Miss Pelham.  She’s always adding things.  By the way, Mr. Chase sees quite a lot of her.  She types for him.  I fancy she’s trying to choose between him and Mr. Saunders.  If you were she, dear, which would you choose?”

“Mr. Saunders,” said Genevra promptly.  “But if I were myself, I’d choose Mr. Chase.”

“Speaking of angels, he must have wings a yard long.  He has been chosen by an entire harem and he flies from them as if pursued by the devil.  I imagine, however, that he’d be rather dangerous if his wings were to get out of order unexpectedly.  But he’s nice, isn’t he?”

The Princess nodded her head tolerantly.

Her ladyship went on:  “I don’t want to walk, after all.  Let us sit here in the corridor and count the prisms in the chandeliers.  It’s such fun.  I’ve done it often.  You can imagine how gay it has been here, dear.  Have you heard the latest gossip?  Mr. Britt has advanced a new theory.  We are to indulge in double barrelled divorce proceedings.  As soon as they are over, Mr. Browne and I are to marry.  Then we are to hurry up and get another divorce.  Then we marry our own husband and wife all over again.  Isn’t it exciting?  Only, of course, it isn’t going to happen.  It would be so frightfully improper—­shocking, don’t you know.  You see, I should go on living with my divorced husband, even after I was married to Bobby.  I’d be obliged to do that in order to give Bobby grounds for a divorce as soon as the estate is settled.  There’s a whole lot more to Mr. Britt’s plan that I can’t remember.  It’s a much gentler solution than the polygamy scheme that Mr. Saunders proposes; I will say that for it.  But Deppy has put his foot down hard.  He says he had trouble enough getting me to marry him the first time; he won’t go through it again.  Besides, he loathes grass widows, as Mrs. Browne calls them.  Mr. Britt told him he’ll be sure to love me more than ever as soon as I become a guileless divorcee.  Of course, it’s utter nonsense.”