And – about the milk?”
The chamois hunter caught up a gaudy jug, and without further words, went out. When he had gone, the Princess rose and, taking the knife he had used to cut the bread and ham, she kissed the handle on the place where his fingers had grasped it. “You’re a very silly girl, Virginia, my dear,” she said. “But oh, how you do love him. How he is worth loving, and – what a glorious hour you’re having!”
For ten minutes she sat alone, perhaps more; then the door was flung open and her host flung himself in, no longer with the gay air which had sat like a cloak upon him, but hot and sulky, the jug in his hand as empty as when he had gone out.
“I have failed,” he said gloomily. “I have failed, though I promised you the milk.”
“Couldn’t you find a cow?” asked Virginia.
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