“You haven’t seen much of her, Lorry, but I tell you she is rare.  And she’s not betrothed to any of these confounded counts or dukes either.  They all adore her but she’s not committed.”

“How do you know all this?” demanded Lorry, who but half heard through his dreams.

“Asked her, of course.  How in thunder do you suppose?”

“And you’ve known her but a day?  Well, you are progressive.”

“Oh, perfectly natural conversation, you know,” explained Anguish, composedly.  “She began it by asking me if I were married, and I said I wasn’t even engaged.  Then I asked her if she were married.  You see, from the title, you can’t tell whether a countess is married or single.  She said she wasn’t, and I promptly and very properly expressed my amazement.  By Jove, she has a will and a mind of her own, that young woman has.  She’s not going to marry until she finds a man of the right sort —­which is refreshing.  I like to hear a girl talk like that, especially a pretty girl who can deal in princes, counts and all kinds of nobility when it comes to a matrimonial trade.  By Jove, I’m sorry for the Princess, though.”

“Sorry for the Princess?  Why?” asked the other, alert at once.

“Oh, just because it’s not in her power to be so independent.  The Countess says she cries every night when she thinks of what the poor girl has to contend with.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I don’t know anything to tell.  I’m not interested in the Princess, and I didn’t have the nerve to ask many questions.  I do know, however, that she is going to have an unpleasant matrimonial alliance forced upon her in some way.”  “That is usual.

“That’s what I gather from the Countess.  Maybe you can pump the Countess and get all you want to know in connection with the matter.  It’s a pretty serious state of affairs, I should say, or she wouldn’t be weeping through sympathy.”

Lorry recalled a part of the afternoon’s sweetly dangerous conversation and the perspiration stood cold and damp on his brow.

“Well, old man, you’ve chased Miss Guggenslocker to earth only to find her an impossibility.  Pretty hopeless for you, Lorry, but don’t let it break you up completely.  We can go back home after a while and you will forget her.  A countess, of course, is different.”

“Harry, I know it is downright madness for me to act like this,” said Lorry, his jaws set and his hands clenched as he raised himself to his elbow.  “You don’t know how much I love her.”

“Your nerve is to be admired, but—­well, I’m sorry for you.”

“Thanks for your sympathy.  I suppose I’ll need it,” and he sank back gloomily.  Anguish was right—­absurdly right.

There was a rap at the door and Anguish hastened to open it.  A servant presented Count Halfort’s compliments and begged leave to call.

“Shall we see the old boy?” asked Harry.