tulips we gathered at Settignano?"

"And the wild cherries--and the pear-blossoms! Italy in the spring is
_Heaven_!" she said, under her breath, as she dropped to a sitting
posture on the floor while he put the drawings before her.

"Well!--shall we go there next spring?"

"Don't tempt me--and then back out!"

"If I did," he said, laughing, "you could still go with Mrs. Friend."

She made no answer. Another knock at the door.

"There's Geoffrey. Come in, old boy. We've only just begun."

Half an hour's exhibition followed. Both Helena and French were
intelligent spectators, and their amazement at the quality and variety of
the work shown them seemed half-welcome, half-embarrassing to their host.

"Why don't you go on with it? Why don't you exhibit?" cried Helena.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"It doesn't interest me now. It's a past phase."

She longed to ask questions. But his manner didn't encourage it. And when
the half-hour was done he looked at his watch.

"Dressing-time," he said, smiling, holding it out to Helena. She rose at