en, in his opinion, could hardly be
too careful, in a calumnious world. The modern flouting of old
decorums--small or great--found no supporter in the man who had
passionately defended and absolved Juliet Sparling.

But he followed the rest to the greeting of the new-comers. Diana's hand
was in Miss Vincent's, and the girl's face was full of joy; Marion
Vincent, deathly white, her eyes, more amazing, more alive than ever,
amid the emaciation that surrounded them, greeted the party with smiling
composure--neither embarrassed, nor apologetic--appealing to Frobisher
now and then as to her travelling companion--speaking of "our week at
Orvieto"--making, in fact, no secret of an arrangement which presently
every member of the group about her--even Sir James Chide--accepted as
simply as it was offered to them.

As to Frobisher, he was rather silent, but no more embarrassed than she.
It was evident that he kept an anxious watch lest her stick should slip
upon the marble floor, and presently he insisted in a low voice that she
should go home and rest.

"Come back after dinner," she said to him, in the same tone as they
emerged on the piazza. He nodded, and hurried off by himself.

"You are at the Subasio?" The speaker turned to Diana. "So am I. I don't
dine--but shall we meet afterward?"

"And Mr. Frobisher?" said Diana, timidly.

"He is staying at the Leone. But I told him to come back."

After dinner the whole party met in Diana's little sitting-room, of
which one window looked to the convent, while the other commanded the
plain. And from the second, the tenant of the room had access to a small
terrace, public, indeed, to the rest of the hotel, but as there were no
other guests the English party took possession.

Bobbie stood beside the terrace window with Diana, gossiping, while
Chide and Ferrier paced the terrace with their cigars. Neither Miss
Vincent nor Frobisher had yet appeared, and Muriel Colwood was making
tea. Bobbie was playing his usual part of the chatterbox, while at the
same time he was inwardly applying much native shrewdness and a
boundless curiosity to Diana and her affairs.

Did she know--had she any idea--that in London at that moment she was
one of the main topics of conversation?--in fact, the best talked-about
young woman of the day?--that if she were to spend June in town--which
of course she would not do--she would find herself a _succes
fou_--people tumbling over one another to invite her,