e not seen any one for
days. I have been living in Russia with a poor young man who had
committed a murder, also with a most sympathetic being who found the
world outside an institution for the feeble-minded too much for him." By
a gesture toward the books on the table he gave her a clue to his
meaning.

"You say you haven't seen any one for days," she said. "Now the Fosses,
for instance, who are your best friends, don't you let them know when
you're shut in?"

"You have no conception, evidently, of my bearishness, dear friend. They
have. They never wonder when they do not see me or hear from me for
weeks."

"I know, and it seems funny; it seems sort of forlorn to me. I saw them
the other day and asked if any one had seen you since the night of the
show. They said no, but didn't seem to think anything about it."

"It's not really long since then. How are they all?"

"All right, and busy as bees. They've no time to come and see me, or
anybody else, I guess. Brenda's coming back to be married in May, and
they're flying round getting her things ready. All her linen is being
beautifully embroidered...."

They went on talking, without much thought of what they said. It was
immaterial, really, what they said, or even whether they listened to
each other, while they had in common the comfort of sitting together in
front of the fire after a long separation filled with doubts and
dismays. She told him about the Convalescents' Home, the sum they had
raised for it. No word, prudently, was spoken by either of her share in
raising it. He told her about the Russian novels. A third person might
perfectly have been present, for anything intimate in their
conversation. Gerald was scrupulously careful, for his part, that this
should be so. The third person would never have divined how far for the
moment that chimney-corner transcended, in the sentiments of the parties
seated before it, any other corner of the earth.

Aurora's attention became closer when Gerald related his interviews with
De Breze and Costanzi, both of whom he had succeeded in convincing that
Antonia had had nothing to do with intriguing them at the
_veglione_, and had left to digest as best they could their
curiosity concerning the mysterious masker mistaken for her. He had been
obliged to give his word that he knew on absolutely good authority who
this person was.

His attention, on the other hand, was complete when she told him how she
had dealt with Ceccher