These were the women of the land which "no one can define or remember." And yet, as he watched her now, St.George was gloriously conscious that Olivia not only held her own among them, but that in some charm of vividness and of _knowledge of laughter_, she transcended them all.
A ripple of surprise had gone round the room.

For all the air of the ultimate about the island-women, St.George doubted whether ever in the three thousand years of Yaque's history a woman had raised her voice from that throne upon a like occasion.

And such a tender, beguiling, cajoling little voice it was.

A voice that held little remarques upon whatever it had just said, and that made one breathless to know what would come next.
"Bully!" breathed Amory, his eyes shining behind his pince-nez.
Prince Tabnit hesitated.
"If the princess wishes to speak with us--" he began, and Olivia made a charming gesture of dissent, and all the jewels in her hair and upon her white throat caught the light and were set glittering.
"No," she said gently, "no, your Highness.

I wish to speak in the presence of my people." She gave the "my" no undue value, yet it fell from her lips with delicious audacity.
"Indeed," she said, "I think, your Highness, that I will speak to my people myself.".