Prince Rao-Singh was looking forward with tense expectancy to Carmelita's coming. When it came to be after seven o'clock and he had heard no word of her, he had telephoned. Her answer to his question, while a little puzzling, was reassuring. Probably there had been a servant near at the time, and her seemingly irrelevant answer about Lucy's illness was thus explained. It did not occur to him that Carmelita's husband might be in Hedgewood. Her answer had certainly meant that she was coming to him. He had feared for a time that she would go back on her bargain but now he was sure his fears had been groundless. Perhaps she even cared for him a little.
He had believed, long ago, it seemed, in Paris that he could make her love him. His wealth and social position must appeal to her, he reasoned at the time. She was used to every luxury, was the daughter of a millionaire, and was going back to South America to marry a man whom she did not love and who was not as rich, from all reports, as he. Why should she not accept him, Prince Rao-Singh,
