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VII
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The next morning his world was nipped with frost. The Princess was very, very busy, quite too busy to look away from the canvas when he said "Good-morning." She answered in a cold, absent-minded way and went on with her work. Even Bistre seemed to feel the chill in the atmosphere and held doubtfully aloof. Miles sat down on a spot of rather wet grass at a respectful distance and filled his pipe.
"May I smoke?" he asked.
"Pray do just as you like."
"It will not annoy you?"
"Not in the least." (Strange, by the way, isn't it, how some words spell one thing and apparently mean quite another? For example, in the present case what the words really conveyed was, "Pray, sir, do you think for a moment that anything you could do
