days thus; with their wonted
inconsequent abruptness one would say to the other on Saturday evening,
'I'm tired of Naples. Let's go somewhere else by the next train,' and
they would shovel a few things--usually those among their possessions
which they were least likely to want--into a bag, and take tickets quite
at random to any place, known or unknown, which occurred to them.
Novelty was often a desirable qualification; but on this Sunday morning
they went to Baja, because a strenuous week had blunted their
imaginations; also, perhaps, a little because on the shores of Baja
there lies much healing. Their affairs had not been going altogether
smoothly of late, and the need rose in them, unworded, for stillness by
blue water and the sun upon warm sand.

Having found these things, they entered into a contented peace, and
built a sand castle. Then they lay on the sand ten yards from it, and
took shots at it with bits of pumice-stone.

'Well,' Tommy observed at length, 'I've won that. And now it looks like
a plum-pudding. Ducks and drakes? No; we'll go to sleep, because we got
up too early for the time we went to bed. Pity; get up later next time.
No, you can't talk yet, Betty, because I'm resting. You know, you don't
need so much rest, because you're not a newspaper man. I'm sorry I'm a
newspaper man; they're so untruthful, and when they try to be funny
they're only rude. But I'm glad we're not a daily; if we were we should
get into seven times as many rows as we do, shouldn't we. Our
mortification might be greater than we could bear. Muzzi can bear a
great deal, though; he's so brave. I'm not; I'm dreadfully sensitive. If
I die a violent death at the hands of the Sindaco--I probably shall, you
know, so will Muzzi--Mrs. Venables will have Masses said for me, because
they're such an interesting medieval survival, obviously deeply rooted
in human psychology. Why are heretics such goats? And why talk about
heretics and newspapers on our happy Sunday in the country? Your turn,
Betty; change the subject while I snatch a moment of sleep.'

Betty, her chin in her hands, was looking across the blue bay.

'I am thinking,' she said. 'No; I am absorbing impressions. They are
illuminating and suggestive--quite striking. They really are, you know.
Chiefly--Naples is there, and you and I are out here. To me at this
moment that is very real and vivid--immensely significant. Perhaps I
have expressed it badly, though.'

'Communicated