"Well, then, listen, Prince Koltsoff. You are here now as our guest and we hope to make your sojourn quite pleasant. But," he took a cigar from a box, lighted it, and thrust the box across the table to Koltsoff. "But we might as well have a clear understanding. It will be better in every way. I have felt that Americans have been altogether too willing to subscribe to European customs in marrying off their daughters. I am going to establish a new precedent, if I can.

Am I clear?"

"What do you mean?" Koltsoff's voice quivered with rising indignation.

Mrs. Wellington could not have a.n.a.lyzed her emotions had she tried.

All she could do was to sit and watch the tottering of the structure she had reared, under the blows of one who had never before interfered in her plans, but whose word was her law.

"I mean that I am unwilling to pay a single red penny for you, or any one else to marry my daughter. If she 's worth anything, she's worth everything. I 'll inform you, however, that she has some money in her own right--not enough to rehabilitate a run-down European estate, but enough to keep the wolf from the door, and, of course, when I get through with it, she 'll share in my estate, which is not inconsiderable."

"But Prince Koltsoff is a man of wealth," said Mrs. Wellington quietly.

"He is not of the broken-down sort."

"Oh, I know all about that," said her husband. "All the more reason why this precedent I am trying to establish should find favor in his eyes."

The Prince rose.

"I understand you to say that you refuse the dower rights which any European must, of course, expect?"

"You do, absolutely. If Anne loves you and wants to marry you, that is her right. She is of age. But no dower. Not a cent."

"And you _love_ your daughter!" Koltsoff's voice was withering.

Mr. Wellington arose quickly.

"That," he said, "we won't discuss."

"Very well," Koltsoff's voice arose almost to a shriek. "But listen, I do love Anne Wellington and I think she loves me. And with dower or without it, I 'll marry her. And--and--" he clutched at his throat, "you have heard me. I have spoken. I say no more." And he slammed out of the room.

CHAPTER XXI

PLAIN SAILOR TALK

Miss Hatch had some inkling of the Prince's intention when she ushered him into the Wellington study, and as she met Sara in the hall on the way out of the library, she held a gloomy countenance.

"Mrs. Van Valkenberg," she said in response to Sara's bright smile of greeting, "please don't think me impertinent, but--will you, if possible, see that the Prince is not alone with Miss Wellington to-day?

And--cannot you prod that terribly sluggish McCall?"

Sara looked at the young woman wonderingly for a minute and then held out her hand, laughing.

"Miss Hatch, you 're a jewel."

Sara found Jack near the garage. But she did not have much success with him. He was grumpy and, replying to Sara's a.s.sertion that the situation was rapidly becoming rife with disagreeable possibilities, he replied that he did not care a very little bit, and that Anne could marry all the princes in Christendom for all he cared. So Sara, flushing with impatience, told him he was an idiot and that she would like to shake him. The only satisfaction she derived from the incident was that Anne, who came upon them as they were parting, was grumpy, too. Synchronous moods in the two persons whose interests she held so closely to heart was a symptom, she told herself, that gave warrant for hope.

Rimini had turned up with the new car and in it Anne, Sara, Koltsoff, and Robert Marie went to the Casino. Mrs. Wellington drove to market in her carriage. Mr. Wellington remained in his study and among other things had Buffalo on the telephone for half an hour. Armitage spent the morning with the boys and showed them several shifty boxing and wrestling tricks which won Ronald to him quite as effectually as the jiu-jitsu grip had won his younger brother the preceding day.

At luncheon, Anne's peevish mood had not diminished, which, to Sara, would have been a source of joy had she not feared that it was due to the fact that Koltsoff had not been good company all the morning. He was, in truth, quite at his wits' end to account for the behavior of Yeasky, who had been instructed to get into communication with him by ten o'clock, and had failed to do so. Thus Koltsoff, even when with Anne, had been preoccupied and in need of a great deal of entertaining.

Armitage took him to the city after lunch and as usual was instructed to return to The Crags. This gave Jack opportunity to see Chief Roberts and to learn that Yeasky was resting easily and cheerfully, apparently eager to live up to the very letter of his contract.

Anne was in her room when he returned and Sara was with her. Koltsoff came back in a taxicab in a frightful state of mind, bordering on mental disintegration, about four o'clock--just in time to keep an appointment with his host and Marie to drive to the Reading Room. As he crossed the veranda, a French bull pup ran playfully between his feet and nearly tripped him. He kicked at the animal, which fled squealing down the steps.

"Hey, you," cried the peppery Ronald, "that's my dog."

The Prince turned with a half snarl and flung himself into the house.

"The great big Turk!" said Ronald, turning to Armitage. "What does he want here, anyway?"

It was nearly five o'clock when the telephone of the garage rang and Armitage was ordered to bring Anne's car to the house. Her manner was quiet, her voice very low, as she gave him his orders.

"To town by the back road," she said. She stopped at one or two stores along Thames Street and finally settling herself back in her seat, said, "Now you can drive home."

Armitage looked at her for a second.

"Do you mind if I take a roundabout way? I should like to talk to you."

Anne returned his gaze without speaking.

Then she nodded slowly.

"Yes, if you like," she said.

"Thank you."

He drove the car up the steep side streets, across Bellevue Avenue, and then headed into a little lane. Here he stopped. Overhead ash and beech and maple trees formed a continuous arch. Gray stone walls hedged either side. Beyond each line of wall, pleasant orchards stretched away. The sidewalks were velvet gra.s.s. Birds of brilliant plumage flashed among the foliage and their twittering cries were the only sounds. Patches of gold sunlight lay under the orchard trees, level rays flowed heavily through the branches and rested on the moss-grown stones.

The pastoral beauty, the great serenity, the utter peace seemed to preclude words. And the spell was immediately upon the two. The down-turned brim of her hat shaded her eyes, but permitted sunlight to lie upon her mouth and chin and to rest where her hair rippled and flowed about her bare neck.

She raised her face--and her eyes, even, level, wondering, sought his.

His eyes were the first to fall, but in them she knew what she had read. Now the sunlight had fallen so low that it lay on her like a garment of light--she seemed some daughter of Hesperus, glorified. The waning afternoon had grown cooler and several blue-white clouds went careening overhead. She looked at them.

"How beautiful!" she said. Then she looked at him again with her steady eyes. "You wished to talk, you said."

Jack nodded.

"Yes, I wish to, but I--I don't know exactly how to say it."

She was smiling now. "How may I help you?"

He shook his head doggedly.

"I am a sailor, Miss Wellington."

"You mean I am to hear plain sailor talk?" she quoted. "Good. I am ready."

He began with the expression of a man taking a plunge.