weeping sort of compliment. Am I to return it?" She glanced
at him and smiled.

"You couldn't, with truth."

"Of course I could. I don't remember ever seeing anything of that sort
before, but I don't believe that anybody could have done it better. I
admired you more than anything just then, you know." She laughed once
more as she added the last words.

"Oh, I don't expect you to go on admiring me. I'm quite satisfied, and
grateful, and all that."

"I'm glad you're so easily satisfied. Couldn't we talk seriously about
something or other? It seems to me that we've been chaffing for half an
hour, haven't we?"

"It hasn't been all chaff, Miss Bowring," said Johnstone. "At least, not
on my side."

"Then I'm sorry," Clare answered. They relapsed into silence, as they
walked their beat, to and fro. The sun had gone down, and it was already
twilight on that side of the mountains. The rain had cooled the air, and
the far land to southward was darkly distinct beyond the purple water.
It was very chilly, and Clare was without a shawl, and Johnstone was
hatless, but neither of them noticed that it was cool. Johnstone was the
first to speak.

"Is this sort of thing to go on for ever, Miss Bowring?" he asked
gravely.

"What?" But she knew very well what he meant.

"This--this very odd footing we are on, you and I--are we never going to
get past it?"

"Oh--I hope not," answered Clare, cheerfully. "I think it's very
pleasant, don't you? And most original. We are intimate enough to say
all sorts of things, and I'm your enemy, and you say you are my friend.
I can't imagine any better arrangement. We shall always laugh when we
think of it--even years hence. You will be going away in a few days, and
we shall stay here into the summer and we shall never see each other
again, in all probability. We shall always look back on this time--as
something quite odd, you know."

"You are quite mistaken if you think that we shall never meet again,"
said Johnstone.

"I mean that it's very unlikely. You see we don't go home very often,
and when we do we stop with friends in the country. We don't go much
into society. And the rest of the time we generally live in Florence."

"There is nothing to prevent me from coming to Florence--or living
there, if I choose."

"Oh no--I suppose not. Except that you would be bored to death. It's not
very amusing, unless you happen to be fond of pictures, and you never
said you were."

"I should go