"Her bitterness toward his Majesty she sought to visit upon his daughter." Olivia sprang to her feet.
"I must go to my father.

I must go to Yaque," she cried ringingly.
"Prince Tabnit, will you take me to him ?" Into the prince's face leaped a fire of admiration for her beauty and her daring.

He bowed before her, his lowered lashes making thick shadows on his dark cheeks.
"I insist upon this," cried little Olivia firmly, "and if you do not permit it, Prince Tabnit, we must publish what you have told us from one end of the city to the other." "Yes, by Jove," thought St.George, "and one's country will have a Yaque exhibit in its own department at the next world's fair." "Olivia! My child! Miss Holland--," began the lawyer.
The prince spoke tranquilly.
"It is precisely this errand," he said, "that has brought me to America.

Do you not see that, in the event of your father's failure to return to his people, you will eventually be Queen of Yaque ?" St.George found himself looking fixedly at Mrs.Hastings' false front as the only reality in the room.

If in a minute Rollo was going to waken him by bringing in his coffee, he was going to throttle Rollo--that was all.