His heart was light and his eyes were shining with a flame
that could have but one origin. He was no longer in doubt. He was in
love. He had found the Golden Girl almost at the end of his journey,
and what cared he if she did turn out to be the daughter of old man
Blithers? What cared he for _anything_ but Bedelia? There would
be a pretty howdy-do when he announced to his people that their
Princess had been selected for them, whether or no, and there might
be such a thing as banishment for himself. Even at that, he would be
content, for Bedelia was proof against titles. If she loved him, it
would be for himself. She would scorn the crown and mock the throne,
and they would go away together and live happily ever afterward, as
provided by the most exacting form of romance. And Blithers? What a
joke it would be on Blithers if he gave up the throne!
As he approached the Ritz, a tall young man emerged from the
entrance, stared at him for an instant, and then swung off at a rapid
pace in the direction of the Rue de la Paix. The look he gave Robin
was one of combined amazement and concern, and the tail end of it
betrayed unmistakable annoyance,--or it might have been hatred.
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