and Marise circled each other.

"_And_
The gent around the gent."

He and Frank followed them.

His head was turning, the room staggered around him. Nelly's warm,
vibrant hand was again in his. They were in their places. Frank's voice
rose, resounding, "_Pro_menade all!"

Nelly abandoned herself to his arms, in the one brief moment of close
physical contact of the dance. They raced to the end of the room.

The music stopped abruptly, but it went on in his head.

The odor of pines rose pungent in the momentary silence. Everyone was
breathing rapidly. Nelly put up a hand to touch her hair. Vincent,
reflecting that he would never acquire the native-born capacity for
abstaining from chatter, said, because he felt he must say something,
"What a pleasant smell those pine-branches give."

She turned her white neck to glance into the small room lined with the
fragrant branches, and remarked, clearly and dispassionately, "I don't
like the smell."

Vincent was interested. He continued, "Well, you must have a great deal
of it, whether you like it or not, from that great specimen by your
front door."

She looked at him calmly, her eyes as blue as precious stones. "The old
pine-tree," she said, "I wish it were cut down, darkening the house the
way it does." She spoke with a sovereign impassivity, no trace of
feeling in her tone. She turned away.

Vincent found himself saying almost audibly, "Oh _ho_!" He had the
sensation, very agreeable to him, of combining two clues to make a
certainty. He wished he could lay his hands on a clue to put with Marise
Crittenden's shrinking from the photograph of the Rocca di Papa.

He had not spoken to Marise that evening, save the first greetings, and
his impudent shout to her in the dance, and now turned to find her. On
the other side of the room she was installed, looking extraordinarily
young and girl-like, between Mr. Welles and Mr. Bayweather, fanning
first one and then the other elderly gentleman and talking to them with
animation. They were both in need of fanning, puffing and panting hard.
Mr. Welles indeed was hardly recognizable, the usual pale quiet of his
face broken into red and glistening laughter.

"I see you've been dancing," said Vincent, coming to a halt in front of
the group and wishing the two old gentlemen in the middle of next week.

"Old Mrs. Powers got me," explained Mr. Welles. "You never saw anything
so absurd in your life." He went on to