“I think,” he said stiffly, “that we had better drop the subject.  I had no idea that Miss Morse felt so strongly about it or I should not have presumed, even here and amongst ourselves, to criticise a person who holds such a high place in her esteem.  Everard, I’ll play you a game of billiards before we go upstairs.  There’s just time.”

Captain Wilmot hesitated.  He was a peace-loving man, and, after all, Penelope and his friend were engaged.

“Perhaps Miss Morse—­” he began.

Penelope turned upon him.

“I should like you all to understand,” she declared, “that every word I said came from my heart, and that I would say it again, and more, with the same provocation.”

There was a finality about Penelope’s words which left no room for further discussion.  The little group was broken up.  She and Lady Grace went to their rooms together.

“Penelope, you’re a dear!” the latter said, as they mounted the stairs.  “I am afraid you’ve made Charlie very angry, though.”

“I hope I have,” Penelope answered.  “I meant to make him angry.  I think that such self-sufficiency is absolutely stifling.  It makes me sometimes almost loathe young Englishmen of his class.”

“And you don’t dislike the Prince so much nowadays?” Lady Grace remarked with transparent indifference.

“No!” Penelope answered.  “That is finished.  I misunderstood him at first.  It was entirely my own fault.  I was prejudiced, and I hated to feel that I was in the wrong.  I do not see how any one could dislike him unless they were enemies of his country.  Then I fancy that they might have cause.”

Lady Grace sighed.

“To tell you the truth, Penelope,” she said, “I almost wish that he were not quite so devotedly attached to his country.”

Penelope was silent.  They had reached Lady Grace’s room now, and were standing together on the hearthrug in front of the fire.

“I am afraid he is like that,” Penelope said gently.  “He seems to have none of the ordinary weaknesses of men.  I, too, wish sometimes that he were a little different.  One would like to think of him, for his own sake, as being happy some day.  He reminds me somehow of the men who build and build, toiling always through youth unto old age.  There seems no limit to their strength, nor any respite.  They build a palace which those who come after them must inhabit.”

Once more Lady Grace sighed.  She was looking into the heart of the fire.  Penelope took her hands.

“It is hard sometimes, dear,” she said, “to realize that a thing is impossible, that it is absolutely out of our reach.  Yet it is better to bring one’s mind to it than to suffer all the days.”

Lady Grace looked up.  At that moment she was more than pretty.  Her eyes were soft and bright, the color had flooded her cheeks.

“But I don’t see why it should be impossible, Penelope,” she protested.  “We are equals in every way.  Alliances between our two countries are greatly to be desired.  I have heard my father say so, and Mr. Haviland.  The trouble is, Pen,” she added with trembling lips, “that he does not care for me.”