if I deceived you, Guida."

For the first time since he had spoken she smiled, yet her eyes filled
with tears too.

"You will let me tell you that I love you, Guida--it is all I ask now:
that you will listen to me?"

She sighed, but did not answer. She kept looking at him, looking as
though she would read his inmost soul. Her face was very young, though
the eyes were so wise in their simplicity.

"You will give me my chance--you will listen to me, Guida, and try to
understand--and be glad?" he asked, leaning closer to her and holding
out his hands.

She drew herself up slightly as with an air of relief and resolve. She
put a hand in his.

"I will try to understand--and be glad," she answered.

"Won't you call me Philip?" he said.

The same slight, mischievous smile crossed her lips now as eleven years
ago in the Rue d'Egypte, and recalling that moment, she replied:

"Yes, sir--Philip!"

At that instant the figure of a man appeared on the shingle beneath,
looking up towards them. They did not see him. Guida's hand was still