Jeanne had just brought in a pile of letters, mostly invitations.

The Princess glanced them through, and smiled as she tossed them on one side.
"How these people amuse one!" she exclaimed.

"Eighteen months ago I was in London alone, and not a soul came near me.

To-day, because I am the guardian of a young lady whom the world believes to be a great heiress, people tumble over one another with their invitations and their courtesies." Jeanne looked up.
"Why do you say 'believes to be ?'" she asked quickly.

"I am a great heiress, am I not ?" The Princess smiled, a slow, enigmatic smile, which might have meant anything, but which to Jeanne meant nothing at all.
"My dear child," she said, "of course you are.