tly. He wandered away to
his own room, leaving Strefford to philosophize to his pipe.

Lansing had always known about poor old Nelson: who hadn't, except poor
old Nelson? The case had once seemed amusing because so typical; now, it
rather irritated Nick that Vanderlyn should be so complete an ass. But
he would be off the next day, and so would Ellie, and then, for many
enchanted weeks, the palace would once more be the property of Nick and
Susy. Of all the people who came and went in it, they were the only ones
who appreciated it, or knew how it was meant to be lived in; and that
made it theirs in the only valid sense. In this light it became easy to
regard the Vanderlyns as mere transient intruders.

Having relegated them to this convenient distance, Lansing shut himself
up with his book. He had returned to it with fresh energy after his few
weeks of holiday-making, and was determined to finish it quickly. He did
not expect that it would bring in much money; but if it were moderately
successful it might give him an opening in the reviews and magazines,
and in that case he meant to abandon archaeology for novels, since
it was only as a purveyor of fiction that he could count on earning a
living for himself and Susy.

Late in the afternoon he laid down his pen and wandered out of doors.
He loved the increasing heat of the Venetian summer, the bruised
peach-tints of worn house-fronts, the enamelling of sunlight on dark
green canals, the smell of half-decayed fruits and flowers thickening
the languid air. What visions he could build, if he dared, of being
tucked away with Susy in the attic of some tumble-down palace, above
a jade-green waterway, with a terrace overhanging a scrap of neglected
garden--and cheques from the publishers dropping in at convenient
intervals! Why should they not settle in Venice if he pulled it off!

He found himself before the church of the Scalzi, and pushing open the
leathern door wandered up the nave under the whirl of rose-and-lemon
angels in Tiepolo's great vault. It was not a church in which one was
likely to run across sight-seers; but he presently remarked a young lady
standing alone near the choir, and assiduously applying her field-glass
to the celestial vortex, from which she occasionally glanced down at an
open manual.

As Lansing's step sounded on the pavement, the young lady, turning,
revealed herself as Miss Hicks.

"Ah--you like this too? It's several centuries out of your l