d happened to the living: they had come to a situation where character
tells, and where childhood enters upon the branching paths of Youth.

"Well, thank you so much," she repeated, "How quickly these accidents do
happen, and then one returns to the old life!"

"I don't."

Anxiety moved her to question him.

His answer was puzzling: "I shall probably want to live."

"But why, Mr. Emerson? What do you mean?"

"I shall want to live, I say."

Leaning her elbows on the parapet, she contemplated the River Arno,
whose roar was suggesting some unexpected melody to her ears.

Chapter V: Possibilities of a Pleasant Outing

It was a family saying that "you never knew which way Charlotte Bartlett
would turn." She was perfectly pleasant and sensible over Lucy's
adventure, found the abridged account of it quite adequate, and paid
suitable tribute to the courtesy of Mr. George Emerson. She and Miss
Lavish had had an adventure also. They had been stopped at the Dazio
coming back, and the young officials there, who seemed impudent and
desoeuvre, had tried to search their reticules for provisions. It might
have been most unpleasant. Fortunately Miss Lavish was a match for any
one.

For good or for evil, Lucy was left to face her problem alone. None
of her friends had seen her, either in the Piazza or, later on, by
the embankment. Mr. Beebe, indeed, noticing her startled eyes at
dinner-time, had again passed to himself the remark of "Too much
Beethoven." But he only supposed that she was ready for an adventure,
not that she had encountered it. This solitude oppressed her; she was
accustomed to have her thoughts confirmed by others or, at all events,
contradicted; it was too dreadful not to know whether she was thinking
right or wrong.

At breakfast next morning she took decisive action. There were two plans
between which she had to choose. Mr. Beebe was walking up to the
Torre del Gallo with the Emersons and some American ladies. Would Miss
Bartlett and Miss Honeychurch join the party? Charlotte declined for
herself; she had been there in the rain the previous afternoon. But
she thought it an admirable idea for Lucy, who hated shopping, changing
money, fetching letters, and other irksome duties--all of which Miss
Bartlett must accomplish this morning and could easily accomplish alone.

"No, Charlotte!" cried the girl, with real warmth. "It's very kind of
Mr. Beebe, but I am certainly coming with you. I had much rather."