He presently left Steinmetz and the prince engaged in a controversy with the countess as to a meeting-place at the luncheon-hour.
Maggie and Catrina were at the piano.

Etta was looking at a book of photographs.
"A charming house, princess," said De Chauxville, in a voice that all could hear while the music happened to be soft.

But Catrina's music was more remarkable for strength than for softness.
"Charming," replied Etta.
The music rose into a swelling burst of harmonious chords.
"I must see you, princess," said De Chauxville.
Etta glanced across the room toward her husband and Steinmetz.
"Alone," added the Frenchman coolly.
Etta turned a page of the album and looked critically into a photograph.
"Must!" she said, with a little frown.
"Must!" repeated De Chauxville.
"A word I do not care about," said Etta, with raised eyebrows.
The music was soft again.
"It is ten years since I held a rifle," said De Chauxville.

"Ah, madame, you do not know the excitement.

I pity ladies, for they have no sport--no big game." "Personally, monsieur," answered Etta, with a bright laugh, "I do not grudge you your big game.