ed at her and smiled.

"No. I think it is true. But you have changed very much, Marcello. You
are not a boy any longer. You have a will of your own now; you are a
man. Do you mind my telling you that?"

"Certainly not!" He smiled again.

"I remember very well what you answered. You said that I should not
laugh at you again. And that has come true. You said a good many other
things. Do you remember?"

"No. I was angry. What did I say? Everything that happened before I was
hurt seems very far off."

"It does not matter," Aurora answered softly. "I am glad you have
forgotten, for though I was angry too, and did not care at the time, the
things you said have hurt me since."

"I am sorry," Marcello said gently, "very, very sorry. Forgive me."

"It was all my fault, for I was teasing you for the mere fun of the
thing. I was nothing but a silly school-girl then."

"Yes. You have changed, too."

"Am I at all what you expected I should be?" Aurora asked, after a
moment's silence.

Marcello glanced at her, and clasped his hands over his knee more
tightly than ever.

"I wish you were not," he answered in a low voice.

"Don't wish that." Her tone was even lower than his.

Neither spoke again for some time, and they did not look at each other.
But the flames flickering in the small fireplace seemed to be talking,
like a third person in the room. Aurora moved at last, and changed her
position.

"I am glad that you have quarrelled with your stepfather," she said. "He
meant to do you all the harm he could. He meant you to die of the life
you were leading."

"You know that?" Marcello looked up quickly.

"Yes. I have heard my mother and Professor Kalmon talking about it when
they thought I was not listening. I always pretend that I am not
listening when anybody talks about you." She laughed a little. "It is so
much simpler," she added, as if to explain. "The Professor said that
your stepfather was killing you by inches. Those were his words."

"The Professor never liked him. But he was right. Have you seen him
often?"

"Yes." Aurora laughed again. "He always turns up wherever we are,
pretending that it is the most unexpected meeting in the world. He is
just like a boy!"

"What do you mean? Is he in love with you?"

"With me? No! He is madly in love with my mother! Fancy such a thing!
When he found that we were coming back to Rome he gave up his
professorship in Milan, and he has come to live here so as to be ab