My cousin's reply was drowned in Tom's words.
The prince was speaking again.
"If I were as young as I once was—" and he looked unutterable things.
"I am glad," said Judith, flashing a coquettish glance at him, "that you are not as young as you once were. Very young men are great bores."
"Then I will say" (in a stage whisper), "if I could only make myself the age you prefer."
"Oh!" (dropping her eyes, with a little sigh.) "In that case, I should beg you to remain just as you are."
Tom and I moved away.
"What a fool he is!" murmured my brother-in-law.
Judith has been unmercifully chaffed about that conversation; but all of our ridicule fails to move her, or make her angry.
"I think he is a dear old man!" she exclaims, "and I do like him, just as he is."
At Princess Shermatoff's ball, last night, she was just as charming with Sacha as she had been with Prince Tucheff. After greeting the hostess, we passed into a large ball-room, and were lost amid a crowd of young women, who were filling up one corner.
Judith, having had one bitter experience, now avoids a sofa at parties. There is always a table in front of it, and there are always young ladies who seat themselves each side of you. A man who can converse with a girl across a table, when she is surrounded by others of her sex, who are curious to hear how Americans talk, has
