my grandfather. He likes me; he admires me because I have
intelligence. He will not live very long, that poor grandfather."

Olga glanced at him, and met the queer calculating melancholy of his
fine eyes.

"Miss Hannaford, if some day I am rich, I shall of course live in
England. In what other country can one live? I shall have a house in
the West End; I shall have a carriage; I shall nationalise--you say
naturalise?--myself, and be an Englishman, not a beggarly Italian. And
that will not be long. The poor old grandfather is weak, weak; he
decays, he loses his mind; but he has made his testament, oh yes!"

The girl's look wandered about the grassy space, she was uneasy.

"Shall we turn and walk back, Mr. Florio?"

"If you wish, but slowly, slowly. I am so happy to have met you. Your
company is a delight to me, Miss Hannaford. Can we not meet more often?"

"I am always glad to see you," she answered nervously.

"Good!--A thought occurs to me." He pointed to the iron fence they were
approaching. "Is not that a waste? Why does not the public
authority--what do you call it?--make money of these railings? Imagine!
One attaches advertisements to the rail, metal plates, of course
artistically designed, not to spoil the Park. They might swing in the
wind as it blows, and perhaps little bells might ring, to attract
attention. A good idea, is it not?"

"A splendid idea," Olga answered, with a laugh.

"Ah! England is a great country! But, Miss Hannaford, there is one
thing in which the Italian is not inferior to the Englishman. May I say
what that is?"

"There are many things, I am sure----"

"But there is one thing--that is Love!"

Olga walked on, head bent, and Florio enveloped her in his gaze.

"To-day I say no more, Miss Hannaford. I had something to tell you, and
I have told it. When I have something more to tell we shall meet--oh, I
am sure we shall meet."

"You are staying in England for some time?" said Olga, as if in
ordinary conversation.

"For a little time; I come, I go. I have, you know, my affairs, my
business. How is your friend, the admirable artist, the charming Miss
Bonnicastle?"

"Oh, very well, always well."

"Yes, the English ladies they have wonderful health--I admire them; but
there is one I admire most of all."

A few remarks more, of like tenor, and they drew near again to the
Marble Arch. With bows and compliments and significant looks, Mr.
Florio walked briskly away in search of an