case she had been led to reviewing the whole subject. "It complicates
life so," she added, and rose to go.

They teased her to remain and lunch with them. But Leslie was suddenly
more tired at the contemplation of life than she had been when she came.
The total result of her call had not been to cheer her, for by an
uncomfortable stirring within, as soon as she had finished, she was made
to repent having talked to outsiders about things so personal, so
private, regarding Gerald--Gerald, who was infinitely reserved. It
seemed a crime against friendship. That somebody else would have been
sure to tell his story did not excuse her.

Leslie's mood to talk was over for that morning and she went home, but
not before she had been forced to take a bottle of perfume which she had
carelessly picked up off Aurora's toilet-table, sniffed, and praised;
also, lifted out of their vase, a bunch of orchids for her mother; and
for Lily the box of sweets that had stood invitingly open on the
sitting-room table.

* * * * *

Next time Aurora saw Gerald--it was on Viale Principe Amedeo--she waved
to him.

He did not see it. He was just aware of a victoria coming down the
middle of the street he was preparing to cross and of something
fluttering, but that it concerned him he did not suspect.

Then suddenly the victoria, like a huge Jack-in-the-box, shot up a
figure, and he recognized Mrs. Hawthorne standing at full height in the
moving carriage, and waving both hands, as he must suppose, nobody else
being near,--to him.

He lifted his hat. He saw her reach for the coachman and by touch make
him aware that she wished to stop. The horses were pulled up. Mrs.
Hawthorne, from the seat into which the jerk had thrown her, made
beckoning signs to him, laughing the while, and calling, "Mr. Fane! Mr.
Fane!"

He went to stand at the carriage-step.

"I thought," said Mrs. Hawthorne, "that you were going to come and take
us sight-seeing."

"I thought I was," said Gerald, with that scant smile of his; "but I was
not so fortunate as to find you at home."

It was true that he had gone to her door one afternoon, having
previously caught a glimpse of her in the heart of the city, shopping.

"You mean to say you came?"

"You did not find my card?"

"No; but it's all right. This is Miss Madison--Mr. Fane. We are
together. What have you got to do?"

Gerald looked as if the question had not been quite