In her heart she thought of herself as "Imperialis
Regalis," as the Yellow Empress. In a few moments she would stun her
world into feeling it as Philip Ammon had done, for she had taken pains
that the history of her costume should be whispered to a few who would
give it circulation. She lifted her head proudly and waited, for was not
Philip planning something unusual and unsurpassed in her honour? Then
she smiled.
But of all the fragmentary thoughts crossing her brain the one that
never came was that of Philip Ammon as the Emperor. Philip the king of
her heart; at least her equal in all things. She was the Empress--yes,
Philip was but a mere man, to devise entertainments, to provide
luxuries, to humour whims, to kiss hands!
"Ah, my luck!" cried a voice behind her.
Edith Carr turned and smiled.
"I thought you were on the ocean," she said.
"I only reached the dock," replied the man, "when I had a letter that
recalled me by the first limited."
"Oh! Important business?"
"The only business of any importance in all the world to me. I'm
triumphant that I came. Edith, you are the most superb woman in every
respect that I have ever seen. One glimpse is worth the whole journey."
"You like my dress?" She moved toward him and turned, lifting her arms.
"Do you know what it is intended to represent?"
"Yes, Polly Ammon told me. I knew when I heard about it how you would
look, so I started a sleuth hunt, to get the first peep.
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