ing else to do, you
know. I know a man who went from Paris to St. Petersburg after a girl (I
know it for a fact, for the girl was myself), and another who came from
Naples to Nice just to call, and went back at midnight."

Rosina appeared most uncomfortable.

"I don't want him to go to Constance--I don't want to go myself!"

"Oh, if it comes to that, you can both remain in Zurich indefinitely, of
course."

"No, we can't; that is, I can't. You know that. If he's going to stay
I've got to go. Oh dear, oh dear, how aggravating it all is! I don't
_want_ him to follow me about."

"Why don't you tell him so, then?"

"Molly!"

"Yes, just tell him so, and if you really mean it, he'll understand,
never fear."

"But I don't want to do that."

"No, I didn't expect that you would. One never likes to do that, which
is one reason why I am myself betrothed to three different men at the
present minute."

"But, Molly--"

"I thought that you liked him."

"I do like him, but there's a wide difference between liking a man and
wanting to have him tagging along behind all the time."

"Oh, as to that, I don't believe that _der_ Herr von Ibn will stay
enough behind to be considered as tagging very long."

Rosina twisted uneasily in bed.

"I don't see what to do," she murmured.

Molly was getting into her clothes with a rapidity little short of
marvellous.

"I'll be curious to see what you _do_ do," she said, sticking pins
recklessly into herself here and there, while she settled all nice
points with a jerk. "It's ten o'clock," she added, with a glance towards
the chimney-piece, "you'd better be arising, for I presume he is coming
this morning?"

Rosina smiled delightfully.

"You heard him say so last night, didn't you?"

"Perhaps; somehow the remark didn't make an impression on me, if I did."

"I'll get up directly you go. And oh, Molly, do tell me just once more
before you leave me that you think he's--"

Molly slashed the end of her four-in-hand through the loop and drew up
the knot with a single pull; then she approached the bed and leaned over
the face upon the pillow.

"I think he's desperately in love," she said, "and I've no blame for him
if he is."

"But do you really think that he is?"

"Well, of course one can never be sure with foreigners."

"_Molly!_"

"'Tis a fact, my dear. But then you know one can never be sure with
one's self either, so there you are."

Rosina laughed ringingly. Then they