Chapter ThreeBefore Angelina could answer, a voice beside her asked,
“Excuse me, but could you tell me what sort of breed that peculiar-looking dog is?”
Angelina started, because they had been talking so intently to each other that she felt as if she and the Prince were alone in an enchanted world where no one could encroach.
Now she found herself looking at the curious eyes of a middle-aged lady, encased in rustling taffeta, who was not looking at her but at Twi-Twi.
He was watching a swan that had approached rather near the edge of the water and was growling at it in his throat.
“He is a Pekingese,” Angelina replied.
“A Pekingese!” the lady exclaimed. “I don’t believe there is such a dog.”
“He is Chinese.”
“Chinese? Well, that accounts for it.”
The lady spoke in a somewhat disda
