For Marinata owned a Papal villa and had once been a favourite summer
residence of the Popes.

'No--but she thought she might have gone into Rome, and she missed the
trains. I found her wandering about the salon looking quite starved and
restless.'

'Those are hungers that pass!--My heart is hard.--There--your bell is
stopping. Eleanor!--I wonder why you go to these functions?'

He turned to look at her, his fine eye sharp and a little mocking.

'Because I like it.'

'You like the thought of it. But when you get there, the reality won't
please you at all. There will be the dirty floor, and the bad music,--and
the little priest intoning through his nose--and the scuffling boys,--and
the abominable pictures--and the tawdry altars. Much better stay at
home--and help me praise the Holy Roman Church from a safe distance!'

'What a hypocrite people would think you, if they could hear you talk like
that!' she said, flushing.

'Then they would think it unjustly.--I don't mean to be my own dupe, that's
all.'

'The dupes are the happiest,' she said in a low voice. 'There is something
between them, and--Ah! well, never mind!'--