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Across the parade, coming from the direction of the fountain, Harry Anguish and Dagmar were slowly walking. They were very close together, and his head was bent until it almost touched hers. As they drew nearer, the dreamy watchers on the balcony recognized them. "They are very happy," said Lorry, knowing that she was also watching the strollers.
But we had met him afterwards at Norfolk Island, and again at Sydney, and we knew now that we should never cease to meet him during our sojourn on this earth. An hour later we were on board his yacht, Wilderness, being introduced to MacGregor, the captain, to Mr. Dagmar Caramel, C.M.G., his guest, and to some freshly made American cocktails. Then we were shown over the Wilderness.
The Countess Dagmar, when not monopolized by the very progressive, or aggressive Anguish, unfolded to Lorry certain pages in the personal history of the Princess, and he, of course, encouraged her confidential humor, although there was nothing encouraging in it for him.
"I wonder if these things would have happened if Baldos had never come to Edelweiss?" mused the princess. As though by common impulse, both of the Graustark women placed their arms about Beverly. "It's because we have so much at stake, Beverly, dear," whispered Dagmar. "Forgive me if I have hurt you."
But here we are. Don't you be the least bit afraid of my wife. She is big and blustery, but has a heart of gold." The rugged outside of this man evidently hid a heart of his own not far from pure gold, and Dagmar could not help thinking he was the nicest policeman she had ever heard of, and that she had encountered him seemed nothing short of wonderfully good luck.
If so, you may share the enthusiasm of Rose Dixon, the young patrol leader of Venture Troop of Girl Scouts. Back once more with her own congenial companions, she almost wished she had not so altered her name. True, Rose Dixon was not far removed from Dagmar Rosika Brodix.
"Tessie," she called finally. "Tessie, wait. I can't go back now." That was all Tessie wanted. She waited, and when again they took up tangled threads of their adventure it was scarcely possible either would allow any further interruptions to delay them. And Dagmar clutched in her tightly clasped hand the lost scout badge. It was Margaret Slowden who lost the Badge of Merit.
The body, they knew, would be crushed beyond recognition a bruised and broken fragment, like enough to Cecil Grimshaw to pass whatever examination would be given it. Grimshaw himself was to go through the wood to the highroad, then on to Finhaut and Chamonix and into France. He was never again to write to Dagmar, to return to England, or to claim his English property....
Let's hurry," and with renewed protestations of real companionship, the older girl grasped the arm of the younger, as if fearful of losing her hold on the other's confidence. "Oh, please don't call me Daggie," objected Dagmar, freeing herself from the rather too securely pressed arm grasp. "You know how I hate that. Always makes me feel like a daggar. Call me Marrie.
But the officer of the law could distinguish runaway girls without a full confession from their painted lips. And he promptly started after them. "He's followin' us," whispered Dagmar. "As if I thought he was playin' hop-scotch," scoffed the tantalizing one. "Keep movin', we will give his legs a treat, even if he intends to beat us out."
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