She had completed her toilet.

She had braided her wonderful hair, and it was gathered in a heavy, shimmering coronet about her head.

There was a flutter of lace at her throat, and little fluffs of it at her wrists.

She was more beautiful, more than ever like the queen of a kingdom as she stood before him now.

And she was alone.
He saw that in his first swift glance.
"You didn't eat the prunes ?" she asked, and for the first time he saw a bit of laughter in her eyes.
"No--I--I kicked the fire from under them," he said.
He caught the significance of her words, and her sudden sidewise gesture.