The Princess smiled.
"And, had the decision been otherwise, the note would have reversed
it," I added.
The smile broadened. "But, since the note was in no way responsible,
nor even persuasive, its sincerity does not matter," she said.
"But, if I were to change my mind?" I replied.
She glanced at my uniform and at the gleaming Star of the Lion.
"They can be removed," I said; "they are only borrowed."
"No, Your Royal Highness," said she, "they cannot be removed--not in
the way you mean; your word is passed to your King."
Your King! It was the first reminder I was no longer a free American,
and it gave me something of a shock. And Dehra understood, and showed
no mercy.
"And, as an Archduke of Valeria, and almost the Heir Presumptive, you
must know what it means to give your word to your King," she said.
"I trust I know what it means to give my word to anyone," I returned.
"Now, don't get on your dignity, Armand," she laughed. "You understand
me perfectly."
I raised my hands in protest. "Understand you perfectly!" I exclaimed.
"I wish I understood you even a little."
"You're not as nice as you were during the first part of the dinner."
"Did you ever hear the slang Americanism 'there are others'?" I asked.
She took a cigarette and lighted it--and passed it to me; then lighted
another for herself.
"What was it you asked about that note?" she said, and gave me one of
those subduing smiles.
I dropped my hand below the table and found her fingers. "You meant
it, Dehra; truly?" I asked.
Sue released her fingers and placed both hands on the cloth. "Of
course I meant it--when I wrote it," she said.
"That's quite as much as I've any right to expect," I answered.
"That's the proper frame of mind, cousin," said she.
"And the sort you prefer in your admirers?"