"Well, what made you go and get married?" said Minnie.

"Hush," said Mrs. Willoughby, sadly, "never mind. I've made up my mind
to one thing, and that is, I will never leave you alone with a
gentleman, unless--"

[Illustration: "HE BENT HIS HEAD DOWN, AND RAN HIS HAND THROUGH HIS
BUSHY HAIR."]

"Well, I'm sure I don't want the horrid creatures," said Minnie. "And
you needn't be so unkind. I'm sure I don't see why people will come
always and save my life wherever I go. I don't want them to. I don't
want to have my life saved any more. I think it's dreadful to have men
chasing me all over the world. I'm afraid to stop in Italy, and I'm
afraid to go back to England. Then I'm always afraid of that dreadful
American. I suppose it's no use for me to go to the Holy Land, or
Egypt, or Australia; for then my life would be saved by an Arab, or a
New Zealander. And oh, Kitty, wouldn't it be dreadful to have some
Arab proposing to me, or a Hindu! Oh, what _am_ I to do?"

"Trust to me, darling. I'll get rid of Girasole. We will go to Naples.
He has to stop at Rome; I know that. We will thus pass quietly away
from him, without giving him any pain, and he'll soon forget all about
it. As for the others, I'll stop this correspondence first, and then
deal with them as they come."

"You'll never do it, never!" cried Minnie; "I know you won't. You
don't know them."