The Princess, fanning herself wearily, leaned back and looked up into the mystic night, the touch of dreamland caressing her softly.

The others--eight or ten men and half as many women--listened to the American in twice as many moods.
"There she is now, sleeping out there in the harbour, a great, big thing with the kindest of hearts inside of those steel ribs.

Her Majesty's ship, the _King's Own!_ Think of it! She convoys a private yacht; she stops off at this beastly island to catch her breath and to see that all are safe; then she charges off into the horizon like a bird that has no home.

Ah, I tell you, it's wonderful.

Samrat, fill the Count's glass again.