imperial, still seen at its finest, sometimes, as the ancient heritage of a son of northern Italy.
Miss Orbison glanced at him appreciatively. "What a romantic-looking young prince and what pretty looks they're giving each other!" she whispered. "Surely that's the princess's son you said was splendid, Mr. Rennie?" Then, upon his nodding, she turned to Orbison and laughed. "You have before you the very answer to your puzzle, Charles. Isn't it plain that you're looking at what would occupy all the space in any young girl's head, even an American's?"
"No," he said. "Only the space in her heart." And his tone was so gloomy that his sister looked amazed.
"Dear me!" she murmured. "I thought this was to be a purely Platonic investigation. American girls as piquant as this one seem to be high explosives, only to be studied by experienced experts long accustomed to observing them, like Mr. Rennie. Or perhaps I'm mistaken, and Mr. Rennie is himself painfully disturbed by this advent of a Renaissance princeling. Springtime in Raona may be contagious. Are you as stricken as Charles is, Mr. Rennie?"
She spoke in a lowered voice, almost whispering, for Miss Ambler and her romantic companion were
