to staying at home."

"She needn't stay in on his account. You said she would be too tired to
go out."

"I see by the scattering way you talk, Owen, that your mind isn't on the
subject, and that you're anxious to get back to your work. I won't keep
you."

"Celia, Celia! Be fair, now!" cried Elmore. "You know very well that I'm
only too deeply interested in this matter, and that I'm not likely to
get back to my work to-night, at least. What is it you wish me to do?"

Mrs. Elmore considered a while. "I don't wish you to do anything," she
returned placably. "Of course, you're perfectly right in not choosing to
let an acquaintance begun in that way go any further. We shouldn't at
home, and we sha'n't here. But I don't wish you to think that Lily has
been imprudent, under the circumstances. She doesn't know that it was
anything out of the way, but she happened to do the best that any one
could. Of course, it was very exciting and very romantic; girls like
such things, and there's no reason they shouldn't. We must manage,"
added Mrs. Elmore, "so that she shall see that we appreciate her
conduct, and trust in her entirely. I wouldn't do anything to wound her
pride or self-confidence. I would rather send her out alone to-morrow."

"Of course," said Elmore.

"And if I were with her when she met him, I believe I should leave it
entirely to her how to behave."

"Well," said Elmore, "you're not likely to be put to the test. He'll
hardly force his way into the house, and she isn't going out."

"No," said Mrs. Elmore. She added, after a silence, "I'm trying to
think whether I've ever seen him in Venice; he's here often. But there
are so many tall officers with fair complexions and English beards. I
_should_ like to know how he looks! She said he was very
aristocratic-looking."

"Yes, it's a fine type," said Elmore. "They're all nobles, I believe."

"But after all, they're no better looking than our boys, who come up out
of nothing."

"Ours are Americans," said Elmore.

"And they are the best husbands, as I told Lily."

Elmore looked at his wife, as she turned dreamily to leave the room; but
since the conversation had taken this impersonal turn he would not say
anything to change its complexion. A conjecture vaguely taking shape in
his mind resolved itself to nothing again, and left him with only the
ache of something unascertained.

V.

In the morning Lily came to breakfast as blooming as a rose. The sense
of he