This was another note on her--what he would have called another light--for her companion, who, though without giving a sign, admired, for what it was, the simplicity of her transition, a transition that took no trouble either to trace or to explain itself.

She paused again an instant, on the grass, to make it; she stopped before him with a sudden "Anything of course, dear as she is, will do for her.

I mean if I were to give her a pin-cushion from the Baker-Street Bazaar." "That's exactly what _I_ meant"-- the Prince laughed out this allusion to their snatch of talk in Portland Place.

"It's just what I suggested." She took, however, no notice of the reminder; she went on in her own way.

"But it isn't a reason.