THE PRINCE
him a speech that would have seemed a few minutes before precarious and in questionable taste. The lead she had given him made the difference, and he felt it as really a lift on finding an honest and natural word rise, by its licence, to his lips. Nothing surely could be, for both of them, more in the note of a high bravery. "I've been thinking it all the while so probable, you know, that you would have seen your way to marrying."
She looked at him an instant, and during these seconds he feared for what he might have spoiled. "To marrying whom?"
"Why some good kind clever rich American."
Again his security hung in the balance—then she was, as he felt, admirable. "I tried every one I came across. I did my best. I showed I had come, quite publicly, for that. Perhaps I showed it too much. At any rate it was no use. I had to recognise it. No one would have me." Then she seemed to betray regret for his having to hear of her anything so disconcerting. She pitied his feeling about it; if he was disappointed she would cheer him up. "Existence, you know, all the same, doesn't depend on that. I mean," she smiled, "on having caught a husband."
"Oh—existence!" the Prince vaguely commented.
"You think I ought to argue for more than mere existence?" she asked/ "I don't see why my existence—even reduced as much as you like to being merely mine—should be so impossible/ There are things of sorts I should be able to have—things I should be able to be. The position of a single woman to-day is very favourable, you know."
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