nity of
using his very various knowledge, wrote also upon art, and besides the
first article he had written about Reanda, more than a year previously,
had, since then, frequently made allusion to the artist's great talent
in his newspaper correspondence. Reanda was therefore under an
obligation to the journalist, and Gloria herself was grateful. Moreover,
Englishmen who came to Rome had frequently been to see Reanda's work in
consequence of the articles. One old gentleman had tried to induce the
artist to paint a picture for him, but had met with a refusal, on the
ground that the work at the Palazzetto Borgia would occupy at least
another year. The Englishman said he should come back and try again.

Between Griggs and Gloria there was the sort of friendly confidence
which could not but exist under the circumstances. She had known him
long, and he had been her father's only friend in Rome. She remembered
him from the time when she had been a mere child, before her sudden
transition to womanhood. She trusted him. She understood perfectly well
that he loved her, but she believed that she had it in her power to keep
his love as completely in the background as he himself had kept it
hitherto. Her instinct told her also that Griggs might be a strong ally
in a moment of difficulty. His reserved strength impressed her even more
than it impressed Francesca Campodonico. She received him gladly, and
told him to come again.

He came, and she asked him to dinner, feeling sure that Reanda would
wish to see him. He accepted the first invitation and another which
followed before long. By insensible degrees, during the winter, Griggs
became very intimate at the house, as he had been formerly at
Dalrymple's lodgings.

"That young man loves you, my dear," said Reanda, one day in the
following spring, with a smile which showed how little anxiety he felt.

Gloria laughed gaily, and patted her husband's hand.

"What men like that call love!" she answered. "Besides--a journalist!
And hideous as he is!"

"He certainly has not a handsome face," laughed Reanda. "I am not
jealous," he added, with sudden gravity. "The man has done much for my
reputation, too, and I know what I owe him. I have good reason for
wishing to treat him well, and I am all the more pleased, if you find
him agreeable."

He made the rather formal speech in a decidedly formal tone, and with
the unconscious intention of justifying himself in some way, though he
was fa