Phyllis understood, but Gretchen did not, why the impulse to speak
came. Then the brown eyes of Phyllis turned their penetrating gaze to
my own eyes, which I was compelled to shift. I bowed, and the Princess
and I passed on.
By the grand staircase we ran into the Prince. His face wore a
dissatisfied air.
"I was looking for Your Highness," he said to Gretchen. "Your carriage
is at the curb. Permit me to assist you. Ah, yes," in English, "it is
Herr Winthrop. I regret that the interview of to-morrow will have to
be postponed till Monday."
"Any time," said I, watching Gretchen whose eyes widened, "will be
agreeable to me."
Gretchen made as though to speak, but the Prince anticipated her.
"It is merely a little discussion, Your Highness," he said, "which Herr
Winthrop and I left unfinished earlier in the evening. Good night."
On the way to the cloak room it kept running through my mind that I had
lost. Thursday?--she said Thursday was the day of her wedding? It
would be an evil day for me.
Pembroke was in the cloak room.
"Going?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Well, let us go together.
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