She
knew that he was in the background of her mind, as it were, and might
come forward at any moment. She often walked down the Bednarska to the
river, and displayed much interest in the breaking up of the ice.
As to Prince Martin Bukaty, she had definitely settled that he was nice.
It is a pity that the word nice as applied to the character of a young
man dimly suggests a want of interest. He was so open and frank that
there was really no mystery whatever about him. And Netty rather liked
a mystery. Of course it was most interesting that he should be a prince.
Even Aunt Julie, that great teacher of equality, closed her lips after
speaking of the Bukatys, with an air of tasting something pleasant. It
was a great pity that the Bukatys were so poor. Netty gave a little sigh
when she thought of their poverty.
In the mean time, Martin was the only person at hand. She did not count
Paul Deulin, who was quite old, of course, though interesting enough
when he chose to be. Netty walked backward and forward down the broad
walk in the middle of those gardens, which the government have so
frequently had to close against public manifestations, and wondered
why Martin was so long in coming.
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