Sophy smiled vaguely, remembering when Olive had been Austrianissimo and Irishissimo and Frenchissimo.
"Does that smile mean you're coming? Ah, do! Marco Amaldi is the most heavenly man I ever knew ... except Varesca."
"A 'heavenly' man?"
Sophy was still smiling.
"Yes. Perfectly deevy; and so clever!"
Suddenly Sophy's smile faded and her eyes grew dark.
"Now you've got your 'fey' look," said Mrs. Arundel, watching her curiously. "What does it mean? Going with me?"
Sophy did not speak at once. Her eyes seemed to watch something forming slowly, far away—something that gathered distinctness against the confused background of life's harlequinade. Suddenly she started, closed her eyelids an instant, then looked at Olive. Her eyes were still wide and vague. They looked slightly out of focus, like the eyes of a baby staring at a flame. Olive felt a little shiver go over her.
"What is it?" she asked. "What do you see?"
"Nothing. It's just a feeling. I'll go with you. Something is going to happen to me to-night. Something important. The room will have three windows——"