“Don’t interrupt me, please.  As I was saying, I saw him laughing over the Fliegende Blaetter.”

“But that’s no sign he has a sense of humor.  It rather proves that he hasn’t.  I’m disappointed in you, Shirley.  To think that my own sister should be able to tell the color of a wandering blackguard’s eyes!”

He struck a match viciously, and his sister laughed.

“I might add to his portrait.  That blue and white scarf is tied beautifully; and his profile would be splendid in a medallion.  I believe from his nose he may be English, after all,” she added with a dreamy air assumed to add to her brother’s impatience.

“Which doesn’t help the matter materially, that I can see!” exclaimed the young man.  “With a full beard he’d probably look like a Sicilian bandit.  If I thought he was really pursuing you in this darkly mysterious way I should certainly give him a piece of my American mind.  You might suppose that a girl would be safe traveling with her brother.”

“It isn’t your fault, Dick,” laughed the girl.  “You know our parents dear were with us when we first began to notice him—­that was in Rome.  And now that we are alone he continues to follow our trail just the same.  It’s really diverting; and if you were a good brother you’d find out all about him, and we might even do stunts together—­the three of us, with you as the watchful chaperon.  You forget how I have worked for you, Dick.  I took great chances in forcing an acquaintance with those frosty English people at Florence just because you were crazy about the scrawny blonde who wore the frightful hats.  I wash my hands of you hereafter.  Your taste in girls is horrible.”

“Your mind has been affected by reading these fake-kingdom romances, where a ridiculous prince gives up home and mother and his country to marry the usual beautiful American girl who travels about having silly adventures.  I belong to the Know-nothing Party—­America for Americans and only white men on guard!”

“Yes, Richard!  Your sentiments are worthy, but they’d have more weight if I hadn’t seen you staring your eyes out every time we came within a mile of a penny princess.  I haven’t forgotten your disgraceful conduct in collecting photographs of that homely daughter of a certain English duke.  We’ll call the incident closed, little brother.”

“Our friend Chauvenet, even,” continued Captain Claiborne, “is less persistent—­less gloomily present on the horizon.  We haven’t seen him for a week or two.  But he expects to visit Washington this spring.  His waistcoats are magnificent.  The governor shies every time the fellow unbuttons his coat.”

“Mr. Chauvenet is an accomplished man of the world,” declared Shirley with an insincere sparkle in her eyes.

“He lives by his wits—­and lives well.”

Claiborne dismissed Chauvenet and turned again toward the strange young man, who was still deep in his newspaper.