"I have only known it a week," was the sculptor's reply. "Do you know
what was in Hoffmeir's letter?"

"His ring; the one you wore in Rome."

"But do you know what he wrote?"

"No," she answered. "How should I?"

Her questioner looked at her a moment in silence. She put up her head
proudly with an involuntary response to the questioning which his
silence implied, and met his eyes unflinchingly. Yet he put his thought
into words.

"It is seven years since I saw you," he said at length.

"It is seven years," she echoed.

"In seven years a great deal may happen," continued he, still regarding
her closely.

"Much, much has happened," she returned, still meeting his gaze without
shrinking.

"Are you married?" he asked, with a certain abruptness which to a
careful observer might have indicated that the question cost him an
effort.

"No," Ninitta returned simply; "how could I be when I was betrothed to