"Upon my word, I don't think it matters who anybody is in Cairo!"
he said with a fine carelessness. "The people whose families are
all guaranteed respectable are more lax in their behavior than the
people one knows nothing about. As for the Princess Ziska, her
extraordinary beauty and intelligence would give her the entree
anywhere--even if she hadn't money to back those qualities up."

"She's enormously wealthy, I hear," said young Lord Fulkeward,
another of the languid smokers, caressing his scarcely perceptible
moustache. "My mother thinks she is a divorcee."

Sir Chetwynd looked very serious, and shook his fat head solemnly.

"Well, there is nothing remarkable in being divorced, you know,"
laughed Ross Courtney. "Nowadays it seems the natural and fitting
end of marriage."

Sir Chetwynd looked graver still. He refused to be drawn into this
kind of flippant conversation. He, at any rate, was respectably
married; he had no sympathy whatever with the larger majority of
people whose marriages were a failure.

"There is no Prince Ziska then?" he inquired. "The name sounds to
me of Russian origin, and I imagined--my wife also imagined,--that
the husband of the lady might very easily be in Russia while his
wife's health might necessitate her wintering in Egypt. The
Russian winter climate is inclement, I believe."

"That would be a very neat arrangement," yawned Lord Fulkeward.
"But my mother thinks not. My mother thinks there is not a husband