Armitage bowed gravely.

“You make it necessary again for me to disavow any allegiance to the powers that rule Great Britain.  I’m really a fair sort of American—­I have sometimes told New York people all about—­Colorado—­Montana—­New Mexico!”

His voice and manner were those of a gentleman.  His color, as Shirley Claiborne now observed, was that of an outdoors man; she was familiar with it in soldiers and sailors, and knew that it testified to a vigorous and wholesome life.

“Of course you’re not English!” exclaimed Singleton, annoyed as he remembered, or thought he did, that Armitage had on some other occasion made the same protest.

“I’m really getting sensitive about it,” said Armitage, more to the Claibornes than to Singleton.  “But must we all be from somewhere?  Is it so melancholy a plight to be a man without a country?”

The mockery in his tone was belied by the good humor in his face; his eyes caught Shirley’s passingly, and she smiled at him—­it seemed a natural, a perfectly inevitable thing to do.  She liked the kind tolerance with which he suffered the babble of Arthur Singleton, whom some one had called an international bore.  The young man’s dignity was only an expression of self-respect; his appreciation of the exact proprieties resulting from this casual introduction to herself and her brother was perfect.  He was already withdrawing.  A waiter had followed him with his discarded newspaper—­and Armitage took it and idly dropped it on a chair.

“Have you heard the news, Armitage?  The Austrian sphinx is here—­in this very house!” whispered Singleton impressively.

“Yes; to be sure, Count von Stroebel is here, but he will probably not remain long.  The Alps will soon be safe again.  I am glad to have met you.”  He bowed to the Claibornes inclusively, nodded in response to Singleton’s promise to look him up later, and left them.

When Shirley and her brother reached their common sitting-room Dick Claiborne laughingly held up the copy of the Neue Freie Presse which Armitage had cast aside at their table.

“Now we shall know!” he declared, unfolding the newspaper.

“Know what, Dick?”

“At least what our friend without a country is so interested in.”

He opened the paper, from which half a column had been torn, noted the date, rang the bell, and ordered a copy of the same issue.  When it was brought he opened it, found the place, laughed loudly, and passed the sheet over to his sister.

“Oh, Shirley, Shirley!  This is almost too much!” he cried, watching her as her eyes swept the article.  She turned away to escape his noise, and after a glance threw down the paper in disgust.  The article dealt in detail with Austro-Hungarian finances, and fairly bristled with figures and sage conclusions based upon them.

“Isn’t that the worst!” exclaimed Shirley, smiling ruefully.