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 "How are we to behave when he arrives," she continued, "and what are we to call him? Why, the man started life as a fishmonger. I never thought we'd see such doings in the Farniente Palace."

Her companion breathed heavily over the last of his roll and honey. Herr Romsteck was elderly, portly, and austere; his manner showed that he knew any attempt to express his feelings would be inadequate. A blob of honey had fallen on the lapel of his worn but immaculate tail coat. He removed it half-heartedly, as though such trifles hardly mattered now.

"It isn't a palace any longer," he said. "I had orders this morning from the Commissioner of Public Buildings—think of that, Public Buildings—that from now on this is officially known as the Executive Mansion. The Council of the League of Nations does not desire that any 'reactionary' sentiment be retained in our government names."

"What right, I should like to know, has the League of Nations to interfere" exclaimed the