e you no more.
Something to invigorate! A rugged piece!"

Eleanor made a choice from Beethoven, and, whilst she played, Elgar
leant forward on the back of a chair. Then he bade them good-bye, his
pulse at fever-time.

Half-past ten next morning found him walking hither and thither on the
Mergellina, frequently consulting his watch. He decided at length to
approach the house in which his acquaintances dwelt. Passing through
the _portone_, whom should he encounter but Clifford Marsh, known to
him only from the casual meeting at Pompeii, not by name. They stopped
to speak. Elgar inquired if the other lived at Mrs. Gluck's.

"For the present."

"I have friends here," Reuben added. "You know Mrs. Lessingham?"

"Oh yes," replied Clifford, eyeing his collocutor. "If you are calling
to see those ladies," he continued, "they went out half an hour ago. I
saw them drive away."

Elgar muttered his annoyance. Though he disliked doing so, he asked
Marsh whether he knew when the ladies were likely to return. Clifford
declared his ignorance. The two looked at each other, smiled, said good
morning, and turned different ways.

Reuben walked about the sea-front for a couple of hours. "Who is that
confounded fellow?" he kept asking in his mind, adding the highly
ludicrous question, "What business has he to know them?" His impatience
waxed; now and then he strode at such a pace that perspiration covered
him. The most trivial discomposure had often much the same effect on
him; if he happened to have a difficulty in finding his way, for
instance, he would fume himself into exasperated heat.

"What business have they to live in a vulgar boarding house? It's
abominable bad taste and indiscretion in that woman. In fact, I don't
like Mrs. Lessingham.--And what the devil has it to do with me?"

He strode up to the villa. Possibly they were there; yet he didn't like
to call--for various reasons. He fretted about the roads, this way and
that, till hunger oppressed him. Having eaten at the first restaurant
he came to, he directed his steps towards the Mergellina again. At two
o'clock he reached the house and made inquiry. The ladies had not yet
returned.

He struck off towards the Chiaia, again paced backwards and forwards,
cursed at carriage-drivers who plagued him, tried to amuse himself on
the Santa Lucia. And pray what was all this fuss about? When he rose
this morning, he had half a mind to start at once for Amalfi, and not
see Mrs.