"

The two stood up as Tweetie came toward them from the lift. Tweetie
pouted again at sight of Mary Gowd, but the pout cleared as Blue Cape,
his arrangements completed, stood in the doorway, splendid hat in hand.

It was ten o'clock when the three returned from Tivoli and the
Colosseum--Mary Gowd silent and shabbier than ever from the dust of the
road; Blue Cape smiling; Tweetie frankly pettish. Pa and Ma Gregg were
listening to the after-dinner concert in the foyer.

"Was it romantic--the Colosseum, I mean--by moonlight?" asked Ma Gregg,
patting Tweetie's cheek and trying not to look uncomfortable as Blue
Cape kissed her hand.

"Romantic!" snapped Tweetie. "It was as romantic as Main Street on
Circus Day. Hordes of people tramping about like buffaloes. Simply
swarming with tourists--German ones. One couldn't find a single ruin to
sit on. Romantic!" She glared at the silent Mary Gowd.

There was a strange little glint in Mary Gowd's eyes, and the grim line
was there about the mouth again, grimmer than it had been in the
morning.

"You will excuse me?" she said. "I am very tired. I will say good
night."

"And I," announced Caldini.

Mary Gowd turned swiftly to look at him.

"You!" said Tweetie Gregg.

"I trust that I may have the very great happiness to see you in the
morning," went on Caldini in his careful English. "I cannot permit
Signora Gowd to return home alone through the streets of Rome." He bowed
low and elaborately over the hands of the two women.

"Oh, well; for that matter--" began Henry Gregg gallantly.

Caldini raised a protesting, white-gloved hand.

"I cannot permit it."

He bowed again and looked hard at Mary Gowd. Mary Gowd returned the
look. The brick-red had quite faded from her cheeks. Then, with a nod,
she turned and walked toward the door. Blue Cape, sword clanking,
followed her.

In silence he handed her into the _fiacre_. In silence he seated himself
beside her. Then he leaned very close.

"I will talk in this damned English," he began, "that the pig of a
_fiaccheraio_ may not understand. This--this Gregg, he is very rich,
like all Americans. And the little Eleanora! _Bellissima!_ You must not
stand in my way. It is not good." Mary Dowd sat silent. "You will help
me. To-day you were not kind. There will be much money--money for me;
also for you."

Fifteen years before--ten years before--she would have died sooner than
listen to a plan such as he proposed; but fifteen years