But perhaps he would not have been so wholly engrossed with that
trifling difficulty had he known who this was who had come softly up the
stair and was now standing, irresolute, smiling, wondering, at the open
door. She was a remarkably pretty, even handsome young lady, whose pale,
clear, olive complexion and coal-black hair bespoke her Southern birth;
while there was an eager and yet timid look in her lustrous, soft black
eyes, and something about the mobile, half-parted mouth that seemed to
say she hardly knew whether to cry or laugh over this meeting with an
old friend. A very charming picture she presented there; for, besides
her attractive personal appearance, she was very neatly, not to say
coquettishly, dressed, her costume, which had a distinctly foreign air,
being all of black, save for the smart little French-looking hat of deep
crimson straw and velvet.

At last she said,

"Leo!"

He turned instantly, and had nearly dropped the cigarette-case in his
amazement. And for a second he seemed paralyzed of speech--he was wholly
bewildered--perhaps overcome by some swift sense of responsibility at
finding Antonia Rossi in London, and alone.

"Che, Nina mia," he cried; "tu stai cca a Londra!--chesta mo, chi su
credeva!--e senza manca scriverme nu viers' e lettere--Nina!--mi pare nu
suonno!--"

She interrupted him; she came forward, smiling--and the parting of the
pretty lips showed a sunny gleam of teeth; she held up her two hands,
palm outwards, as if she would shut away from herself that old, familiar