and savory as one of her herbs; Mr. Welles, the old tired
darling come into his haven, loving Paul as he would his own grandson;
Eugenia orchid-like against their apple-blossom rusticity; Marsh . . . how
tremendously more _simpatico_ he had seemed this afternoon than ever
before, as though one might really like him, and not just find him
exciting and interesting; Neale, dear Neale with his calm eyes into
which it did everyone good to look. All of them at ease, friendly,
enjoying food, the visible world, and each other. Where, after all, were
those traditional, troubling, insoluble intricacies of human
relationships which had been tormenting her and darkening her sky? It
was all so good and simple if one could only remain good and simple
oneself. There was no lightning to fear in that lucent sunset air.

* * * * *

Presently, as the talk turned on flowers and the dates of their
blooming, Eugenia said to her casually, "Marisette, here we are the
first of June and past, and the roses here are less advanced than they
were at Tivoli the last of March. Do you remember the day when a lot of
us sat outdoors and ate a picnic dinner, just as we do now? It was the
day we climbed Monte Cavo."

Marise explained, "Miss Mills is a friend who dates back even before my
husband's time, back to our student days in Rome." To Eugenia she said,
"You're giving us both away and showing how long ago it is, and how
you've forgotten about details. We never could have climbed up Monte
Cavo, the day we went to Tivoli. They don't go on the same excursion, at
all."

"That's true," agreed Eugenia indifferently, "you're right. Monte Cavo
goes with the Rocca di Papa expedition."

Before she could imagine a possible reason, Marise felt her hands go
cold and moist. The sky seemed to darken and lower above her. Eugenia
went on, "And I never went to Rocca di Papa with you, at all, I'm sure
of that. That was a trip you took after you had dropped me for Neale. In
fact, it was on that very expedition that you got formally engaged,
don't you remember? You and Neale walked over from Monte Cavo and only
just caught the last car down."

* * * * *

Ridiculous! Preposterous! Marise told herself that it was not possible
that her hands were trembling so. It was merely a physical reaction,
such as one had when startled by some trivial sudden event. But she
couldn't make them stop trembling. She coul