that, as he had nothing
better to do, he was wondering about me. I would have given a lot to
know what they were saying, and whether Venice was in their minds or
not, but I could do nothing except hope they might not place me
mentally. I wouldn't get up and go in, because that would have been too
cowardly; and besides, if they were staying in the hotel, I should
certainly run up against them afterward.

I had just decided to face it out, and had put on a forbidding
expression, when along came Sir Lionel, so I had to take off the
expression and fold it away for future emergencies. He was smoking one
of those cigarettes which go so well with sunsets, and he had seen the
King Arthur sky-tournament from the other side of the house. He said he
had not supposed I should be down so soon, but was hoping that I hadn't
missed the show, wherever I was. He threw away his cigarette--which is
one of his old-fashioned tricks if he sees a woman, never even waiting
to know if she minds--and asked if he might sit on the seat by me. That
was old-fashioned, too, wasn't it? The Dick Burdens of the world plump
themselves down by girls without worrying to get permission. They think
female things will be too flattered for words, by a condescending male
desire to be near them.

I told you how nice Sir Lionel looks in evening clothes, didn't I?
You've no idea what a perfect shape his head is; and a large lake of
white shirt under a little black silk bow is particularly becoming to a
clean-shaven man with a very tanned skin--though I don't know why. One
would think it might have the opposite effect. And Sir Lionel does tie
his necktie so nicely, with a kind of careless precision which comes
right of itself, like everything he does. (You will think all this is
silly, and it is; but I keep noticing things about him, and liking them,
so I tell you, because I may have prejudiced you against him at first,
as Ellaline prejudiced me.)

We were beginning to have a good talk about Cornwall, and quaint Cornish
ways and superstitions, when out of the house came Mrs. Senter. The
Venice people had just passed again, and were near the hotel door as she
appeared.

"Why, Sallie and George!" she exclaimed.

And "Why, Gwen!" the Venice lady answered.

They shook hands, the boy and all, and though Sir Lionel didn't pay much
attention to what was going on, I couldn't keep up our conversation.
"Suppose they tell Mrs. Senter they met me in Venice!" I said to m