His face darkened a little.

“You did not talk like this in London,” he reminded her.

“Perhaps not,” she admitted.  “Perhaps even now it is only a mood with me.  I can only speak as I feel for the moment.  There are times when I feel differently, but not now.”

“Perhaps,” he said jealously, “there are also other people with whom you feel differently.”

“Perhaps,” she admitted calmly.

“When I came into the room the other day,” he said, “Forrest was holding your hand.”

“Major Forrest,” she said, “has been very much upset.  He needed a little consolation.  He has some other engagements, and he ought to have left before now, but, as you know, we are all prisoners.  I wonder how long it will last.”

“I cannot tell,” Cecil answered gloomily.  “Forrest knows more about it than I do.  What does he say to you?”

“He thinks,” the Princess said slowly, “that we may be able to leave in a few days now.”

“Then while you do stay,” Cecil begged, “be a little kinder to me.”

She withdrew her hand from her dog and patted his for a moment.

“You foolish boy,” she said.  “Of course I will be a little kinder to you, if you like, but I warn you that I shall only be a disappointment.  Boys of your age always expect so much, and I have so little to give.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Because it is the truth,” she answered.  “You must not expect anything more from me than the husk of things.  Believe me, I am not a poseuse.  I really mean it.”

“You may change your mind,” he said.

“I may,” she answered.  “I have no convictions, and my enemies would add, no principles.  If any one could make me feel the things which I have forgotten how to feel, I myself am perfectly willing!  But don’t hope too much from that.  And do, there’s a dear boy, go and stop my maid.  I can see her on her way down the drive there.  She has some telegrams I gave her, and I want to send another.”

Cecil hurried out, and the Princess, moving to the window, beckoned to Forrest, who was lounging in a wicker chair with a cigarette in his mouth.

“Nigel,” she said, “how much longer?”

Forrest looked despondently at his cigarette.

“I cannot tell,” he answered.  “Perhaps one day, perhaps a week, perhaps—­”

“No!” the Princess interrupted, “I do not wish to hear that eventuality.”

“You know that the Duke is still about?” Forrest said gloomily.  “I saw him this morning.  There has been a fellow, too—­a detective, of course—­enquiring about the car and who was able to drive it.”

“But that,” the Princess interrupted, “is all in our favour.  You were seen to bring it back up the drive about ten o’clock in the morning.”

Forrest nodded.

“Don’t let’s talk about it,” he said.  “Where is Jeanne?  Do you know?”