“In the household of the erstwhile leather manufacturer, the present President, Herr Essendorf.  I hope you liked those fat children.  They always seemed to me loathsome little brats.”

“What do you know about my stay in Berlin?” she demanded.

“Everything there is to be known,” he answered.  “To tell you the truth, our people there were a trifle anxious about you.  I was the little angel watching from above.”

“You are, without a doubt,” Maggie pronounced, “a most interesting young man.  We will talk together presently.”

“A hint which sends me back to my mutton,” the young man observed.  “Dorminster,” he added, turning to his host, “I heard the other day, on very good authority, that you were thinking of writing a novel.  If you are, study the lady who has just entered.  There is a type for you, an intelligence which might baffle even your attempts at analysis.”

Naida, escorted by her father and Immelan, took her place at an adjacent table.  She bowed to Nigel and Karschoff before sitting down, and her eyes travelled over the rest of the party with interest.  Then she recognised Maggie and waved her hand.

“Immelan is a very constant admirer,” Prince Karschoff remarked, a little uneasily.

“Is that her father?” Maggie asked.

The Prince nodded.

“He is one of the ambassadors of commerce from my country,” he said.  “In place of diplomacy, he superintends the exchange of shipping cargoes and talks freights.  I suppose Immelan and he are all the time comparing notes, but I scarcely see where my dear friend Naida comes in.”

“There is still the oldest interest in the world for her to fall back upon,” Chalmers murmured.  “One hears that Immelan is devoted.”

“Scandalmonger!” the Prince declared severely.  “Young man from the New World,” he proceeded, “get on with your lunch and drink your iced water.  Let the vision of those two remind you that it was your people who foisted the League of Nations upon us, and be humble, even sorrowful, when you view one of the sad results.”

“I can’t be responsible, directly or indirectly, for a political flirtation,” Chalmers grumbled.  “Besides, why should there be any politics about it at all?  Mademoiselle Karetsky is quite attractive enough to turn the head even of a seasoned old boulevardier like you, Prince.”

“That young man,” Karschoff said deliberately, “will find himself before long face to face with a blighted career.  He has no respect for age, and he is shockingly lacking in finesse.  All the same, on one point I am agreed.  I don’t think there is a man breathing who could resist Naida if she wished to call him to her.”

The little party broke up presently and wandered out into the gardens.  They sat for a while upon the lawn, drinking their coffee and exchanging greetings with acquaintances.  In the distance, the orchestra was playing soft music, with a fine regard for the atmosphere of the pleasant, almost languorous spring afternoon.  Everywhere were signs of contentment, even gaiety, and here the alien streak of unfamiliar newcomers was far less pronounced.  When the time came for tennis, Chalmers led the way with Maggie.  As soon as they were out of hearing of the others, she turned towards him a little abruptly.