“If I answered all that your question implies,” he said, “I should make use of speech too direct for the conventions of the world in which you live.  I would simply remind you that whereas we men in China may claim, I think, to have reached the same standard of culture and civilisation as Europeans, we have left our womenkind far behind in that respect.  The Chinese woman, even the noble lady, does not care for serious affairs.  The God of the Mountains, as they call him, made her a flower to pluck, a beautiful plaything for her chosen mate.  She remains primitive.  That is why, in time, man wearies of her, why the person of imagination looks sometimes westward, finds a new joy and a strange new fascination in a wholly different type of femininity.”

“But you have many European women now living in China,” Maggie reminded him,—­“American women, too, and they are so much admired everywhere.”

“The Chinese, especially we of the nobility,” Prince Shan replied, “are born with racial prejudices.  An individual may forgive an affront, a nation never.  The days of retaliation by force of arms may indeed have passed, but the gentleman of China, even of these days, is not likely to take to his heart the woman of America.”

“Dear me,” Maggie murmured, “isn’t it rather out of date to persevere in these ancient feuds?”

“Feeling of all sorts is out of date,” he admitted patiently, “yet there are some things which endure.  I should be honoured by your friendship, Lady Maggie.”

“This is very sudden,” she laughed.  “I am very flattered—­but what does it mean?”

“Permission to call upon you—­and your aunt,” he added, glancing around the little circle.

“We shall be delighted,” Maggie replied, “but you won’t like my aunt.  She is a little deaf, and she has no sense of humour.  She has come to live with us because Lord Dorminster and I are not really related, although we call ourselves cousins, and I should hate to leave Belgrave Square.  You shall take me out to tea to-morrow afternoon instead, if you like.”

A smouldering fire burned for a moment in his eyes.

“That will make me very happy,” he said.  “I shall attend you at four o’clock.”

Thenceforward, conversation became general.  Prince Shan, with the air of one who has achieved his immediate object, left his place by Maggie’s side and talked with grave courtesy to her aunt.  Presently the little party broke up, bound, it seemed, for the same theatre.  Nigel had become a little serious.

“Well, you’ve made a good start, Maggie,” he remarked, leaning forward in his place in the limousine.

“Have I?” Maggie answered thoughtfully.  “I wonder!”

“I wish we could get at him in some different fashion,” her companion observed uneasily.

“My dear man, I’m hardened to these enterprises,” Maggie assured him.  “I even let the President of the German Republic hold my hand once when his wife wasn’t looking.  Nothing came of it,” she added, with a little sigh.  “These Germans are terribly sentimental when it doesn’t cost them anything.  They’ve no idea of a fair exchange.”