igarchy--and you would have
opened your eyes if you could have seen into that corner through the
smoke and gossip of the old days in Pall Mall."

"The old days of six months ago!" said Sydney, good-humoredly.

"Do you know that Edith and I are going abroad next week?"

The question sounded abrupt, but Dalton had not the air of a man who
wants to turn the conversation.

"No," said Sydney, in some surprise. "Where are you going?"

"Well, Edith wants to go to Italy, and I should not wonder if we were to
come across a cousin of mine, Mrs. Hartley, who is now at Florence. You
know her, I believe?"

"I hardly know her, but I have heard a good deal about her. She has been
very kind to my sister--nursed her through a long illness, and looked
after her in the most generous manner possible. I am under great
obligations to Mrs. Hartley. I hope you will say so to her if you meet."

"All right. Anything else I can do for you? No doubt we shall see your
sister. We are old friends, you know. And I have met her several times
at my cousin's this winter."

"At those wonderful Sunday gatherings of hers?"

"I dropped in casually one day, and found Miss Campion there--and I
admit that I went pretty regularly afterwards, in the hope of improving
the acquaintance. If I were to tell you that I am going to Florence now
for precisely the same reason, would you, as her brother, wish me good
speed, or advise me to keep away?"

"Wish you good speed?"

"Why, yes! Is not my meaning clear?"

"My dear Dalton, you have taken me absolutely by surprise," said Sydney,
laying down his cigar. "But, if I understand you aright, I do wish you
good speed, and with all my heart."

"Mind," said Dalton hurriedly, "I have not the least idea what my
reception is likely to be. I'm afraid I have not the ghost of a chance."

"I hope you will be treated as you deserve," said Sydney, rather
resenting this constructive imputation on his sister's taste. Privately,
he thought there was no doubt about the matter, and was delighted with
the prospect of so effectually crushing the gossip that still hung about
Lettice's name. The memory of Alan Walcott's affairs was strong in the
minds of both men as they paused in their conversation, but neither
chose to allude to him in words.

"I could settle down here with the greatest pleasure imaginable, under
some circumstances," said Brooke Dalton, with a faint smile irradiating
his fair, placid, well-featured countenan