he women exchanged the foreign salute,
which Leslie had adopted and Estelle submitted to, a mere touching of
cheeks while the lips kiss the air.

They sat down on the rococo settee to talk, Leslie, quick of eye,
wondering what had happened to give Estelle that unusual air, an air
of--no, it was indefinable. Excitement had a share in it, and possibly
chagrin, and, it almost seemed, exaltation. The chief thing about it,
however, was that she was trying to conceal it; doing her best, but it
was a poor best, to appear natural. Leslie graciously allowed her to
suppose she was succeeding, and entered at once upon the reason for her
early call.

"I really think, Estelle, that the villa at Antiniano would suit Aurora.
As for you, I am positive, my dear, that you would adore it. It is a
little out of the thick of things, but has a very fine view of the sea,
also a very pretty garden. Certain conveniences, of course, it hasn't,
but, then, you mustn't expect those of an Italian villa. I saw Madame
Rossi yesterday, and she said she wished you would make an excursion to
Antiniano to see for yourselves. She is sure you would be charmed. One
request she would make: that the peasant family be allowed to continue
in their little corner of the house, where they wouldn't be the least in
your way, and then that the little donkey should be allowed to remain in
the stable. But in return you could use him, she said."

"Ride him?"

"Yes, or harness him. For the country, why not, my dear? They are ever
so strong little beasts."

Estelle began to laugh, presumably at the picture of Aurora on
donkey-back, or, with herself, exhilarating the country-side by the
vision of them drawn in a donkey-cart. Leslie joined in her merriment,
but expostulatingly, and, warned by a note in Estelle's laugh, watched
her with suspicion while it developed into a nervous cackle. She saw her
cover her eyes with one hand, and with the other vainly feel in her
pocket. She was crying. Leslie tendered the little handkerchief found on
the floor, and knew then that it had dried tears before on that same
day. She waited, tactfully silent, merely placing a condoling hand over
her friend's.

"I might as well tell you," Estelle got out, when her crying fit
permitted her to speak, "that Aurora isn't going to take any villa at
Antiniano this summer.... She's gone away."

"Gone away? What do you mean?" asked Leslie, surprised into a very
complete blankness of expression.