be awfully good, and not to forget
to feed the mongoose. Susy noticed that this missive had been posted in
Milan.

She communicated her apprehensions to Strefford. "I don't trust
that green-eyed nurse. She's forever with the younger gondolier; and
Clarissa's so awfully sharp. I don't see why Ellie hasn't come: she was
due last Monday."

Her companion laughed, and something in the sound of his laugh suggested
that he probably knew as much of Ellie's movements as she did, if not
more. The sense of disgust which the subject always roused in her made
her look away quickly from his tolerant smile. She would have given
the world, at that moment, to have been free to tell Nick what she had
learned on the night of their arrival, and then to have gone away with
him, no matter where. But there was Clarissa--!

To fortify herself against the temptation, she resolutely fixed her
thoughts on her husband. Of Nick's beatitude there could be no doubt.
He adored her, he revelled in Venice, he rejoiced in his work; and
concerning the quality of that work her judgment was as confident as
her heart. She still doubted if he would ever earn a living by what
he wrote, but she no longer doubted that he would write something
remarkable. The mere fact that he was engaged on a philosophic romance,
and not a mere novel, seemed the proof of an intrinsic superiority. And
if she had mistrusted her impartiality Strefford's approval would have
reassured her. Among their friends Strefford passed as an authority on
such matters: in summing him up his eulogists always added: "And you
know he writes." As a matter of fact, the paying public had remained
cold to his few published pages; but he lived among the kind of people
who confuse taste with talent, and are impressed by the most artless
attempts at literary expression; and though he affected to disdain their
judgment, and his own efforts, Susy knew he was not sorry to have it
said of him: "Oh, if only Streffy had chosen--!"

Strefford's approval of the philosophic romance convinced her that it
had been worth while staying in Venice for Nick's sake; and if
only Ellie would come back, and carry off Clarissa to St. Moritz or
Deauville, the disagreeable episode on which their happiness was based
would vanish like a cloud, and leave them to complete enjoyment.

Ellie did not come; but the Mortimer Hickses did, and Nick Lansing was
assailed by the scruples his wife had foreseen. Strefford, coming back