asm. "Good old psychological moment that was, wasn't it? Talk about
girls having tact! Besides, I've never told Isabel herself yet, and I'm
not the American to give in to the effete and decaying custom of asking
a girl's poppa, or momma if it's a case of widow, first. Not Richard
Dod."

"What on earth," I exclaimed, "have you been doing all this time?"

"Now go slow, Mamie, and don't look at me like that. I've been trying to
make her acquainted with me--explaining the kind of fellow I
am--getting solid with her. See?"

"Showing her the beauties of your character!" I exclaimed derisively.

"I said something about the defects, too," said Dicky modestly, "though
not so much. And I was getting on beautifully, though it isn't so easy
with an English girl. They don't seem to think it's proper to analyse
your character. They're so maidenly."

"And so unenterprising," I said, but I said it to myself.

"Isabel was actually beginning to _lead up to the subject_," Dicky went
on. "She asked me the other day if it was true that all American men
were flirts. In another week I should have felt that she would know what
was proposing to her."

"And you were going to wait another week?"

"Well, a man wants every advantage," said Dicky blandly.

"Did you explain to Isabel that you were only joining our party in the
hope of meeting her accidentally soon again?"

"What else," asked he in pained surprise, "should I have joined it for?
No, I didn't; I hadn't the chance, for one thing. You took the first
train back to Rome next morning, you know. She wasn't up."

"True," I responded. "Momma said not another hour of her husband's Aunt
Caroline would she ever willingly endure. She said she would spend her
entire life, if necessary, in avoiding the woman." But Dicky had not
followed the drift of my thought.

I added vaguely, "I hope she will understand it"--I really couldn't be
more definite--and bade Mr. Dod good-night. He held my hand
absent-mindedly for a moment, and mentioned the effectiveness of the
Ponte Vecchio from that point of view.

"I didn't feel bound to change my tickets less ten per cent.," he said
hopefully, "and we're sure to come across them early and often. In the
meantime you might try and soften me a little--about Lot's wife."

Next day, in the Ufizzi, it was no surprise to meet the Miss Binghams.
We had a guilty consciousness of fellow-citizenship as we recognised
them, and did our best to look as if two week