will be back in time for luncheon."

"I suppose so," answered Aurora. "Why do you look at me in that way?"
she asked, standing upright and meeting his eyes suddenly.

He laughed softly and took his cigar from his mouth.

"I was watching you. You are very graceful when you move."

She did not like his expression.

"I wish you would think less about me and more about finding Marcello,"
she said rather sharply.

"You talk as if he were lost. I tell you he will surely come back before
long."

"I hope so."

But Marcello did not come back, and after Aurora had returned to the
cottage and was seated in her chair again, with her book, she grew
restless, and went over in her memory what had passed in the morning. It
was not possible that Marcello should really mean to carry out his
threat, to go away without a word, to leave her, to leave his mother;
and yet, he was gone. A settled conviction came over her that he was
really gone, just as he was, most probably back to Rome. She had teased
him, and he had been very angry, absurdly angry; and yet she was perhaps
responsible, in a way, for his disappearance. Presently his mother would
grow anxious and would ask questions, and then it would all come out. It
would be better to be brave and to say at once that he had been angry