“So he’s the Fairy Prince?  He certainly doesn’t look it.”

“No; he doesn’t look it; but he’s as much of a problem to Olivia as if he did.”

“Why?  What has he to do with her?”

“Nothing, except that I suppose she must feel very grateful.”

They reached the edge of the lawn where a hedge of dahlias separated them from the neighboring garden.

“When you say that,” he asked, “do you mean anything in particular?”

“I suppose I mean everything in particular.  The situation is one in which all the details count.”

“And the bearing of this special detail—­”

“Oh, don’t try to make me explain that.  In the first place, I don’t know; and in the second, I shouldn’t tell you if I did.  I’m merely giving you the facts.  I think you’re entitled to know them.”

“So I should have said.  Are there many more?  I’ve had a lot since I landed.  I thought I must have heard pretty well all there was—­”

“Probably you had, except just that.  I imagine Olivia found it difficult to speak of, and so I’m doing it for her.”

“Why should she find it difficult to speak of?  It’s a mere matter of business, I suppose.”

“If it’s business to give Cousin Henry what would be nearly a hundred thousand pounds in English money, with no prospect that any one can see of his ever getting it back—­that is, not unless old Madame de Melcourt—­”

“Oh, I say!  Then he’s one of your beastly millionaires, by Jove!—­grind the noses off the poor, and that sort of thing, to play Haroun-al-Raschid with the cash.”

“Not in the least.  He never ground the nose off any one; and as for being a millionaire, father says that what he’s done for Cousin Henry will pretty well clean him out.”

“All the same, he’s probably done it with a jolly sharp eye to the main chance.”

“Oh, I dare say his motives weren’t altogether altruistic.  Only it’s a little difficult to see where the main chance comes in.”

“Then what the deuce is he up to?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.  I repeat that I’m only giving you the facts.  You must interpret them for yourself.”

He looked thoughtful.  Drusilla plucked a scarlet dahlia and fastened it in her dress, after which they strolled back slowly to the middle of the lawn.  Here Ashley said: 

“Has all this got anything to do with Olivia?  I wish you wouldn’t make mysteries.”

“I’m not making mysteries.  I’m telling you what’s happened just as it occurred.  He advanced the money to Cousin Henry, and that’s all I know about it.  If I draw any inferences—­”

“Well?”

“I’m just as likely to be wrong as right.”

“Then you have drawn inferences?”

“Who wouldn’t?  I should think you’d be drawing them yourself.”

They wandered on a few yards, when he stopped again.  “Look here,” he said, with a sort of appealing roughness, “you’re quite straight with me, aren’t you?”