Together

Neeland regarded the little dog and addressed him politely: "I shouldn't dare call you Sandy on such brief acquaintance," he said;
"but may I salute you as Alexander? Thank you, Alexander."

He patted the dog, whose tail made a slight, sketchy motion of
approval.

"Now," said Rue Carew, "you are friends, and we shall all be very
happy together, I'm sure.... Princess Naïa said we were not to wait.
Tell me how to fix your tea."

He explained. About to begin on a buttered croissant, he desisted
abruptly and rose to receive the Princess, who entered with the light,
springy step characteristic of her, gowned in one of those Parisian
afternoon creations which never are seen outside that capital, and
never will be.

"Far too charming to be real," commented Neeland. "You are a pretty
fairy story, Princess Naïa, and your gown is a miracle tale which
never was true."

He had not dared any such flippancy with Rue Carew, and the girl, who
knew she was exquisitely gowned, felt an odd little pang in her heart
as this young man's praise of the Princess Mistchenka fell so easily
and gaily from his lips. He might have noticed her gown, as it had
been chosen with many doubts, much hesitation, and anxious
consideration, for him.

She flushed a little at the momentary trace of envy: "You are too lovely for words," she said, rising. But the Princess
gently forced her to resume her seat.

"If this young man has any discrimination," she said, "he won't
hesitate with the golden apple, Ruhannah."