"Oh, Marie, darling!" she faltered. "I wouldn't ruin you for the
world--not to save my life. I--it was only that I was so surprised. I'm
glad--very glad to see you. I've dreamed of you a thousand times--and
just before coming to Monte Carlo, too. I expected some one else when I
came into this room, a Princess Della Robbia----"
"I am Princess Della Robbia," Marie said in a veiled, dead voice.
"You--but I don't understand----"
"I'll tell you. I want to tell you," the Princess broke in quickly, the
words almost jumbled together in her haste. "We must talk before any one
comes. Will any one come?"
"No, no," Marie soothed her. "Mrs. Winter is out. She won't be back till
four. It's only a little after three."
The Princess thrust her arm through her muff so that she could take both
Mary's hands. She pressed them tightly, her fingers jerking as if by
mechanism. "I've come--I've got to throw myself on your mercy," she
said.
"Don't," Mary implored, "use such words to me. Oh, Marie, how
strange--how strange everything is! The night before I left the convent,
Peter--dear Peter, who loves you too, always--said that perhaps my
dreams meant that you thought of me sometimes--that we might meet. Then
I didn't expect to come here. She told me not to come. But she said,
'Anything can happen at Monte Carlo.'"
"Anything can happen anywhere," the Princess answered in a muffled
voice. "It is a terrible world. It's been a terrible world for me since
I saw you.
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