"Misunderstandings, because so slight that one cannot attack them, are horrible things. Let there be none between us now."
"There is none."
"I do not know." He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the soft darkness of the Italian night. "I have one more favor to ask," he said, presently. "You have granted me many; grant me this. At what hour do you go to-morrow?"
"In the afternoon."
"Give me a little time with you in the Boboli Garden in the morning."
"You are an accomplished workman, Mr. Morgan; you want to finish with a polish; you do not like to leave rough ends. Be content; I will accept the intention as carried out, and suppose that all the last words have been beautifully and shiningly spoken. That will do quite as well."
"Put any construction upon it you please," he answered. "But consent."
But it was with great difficulty that he obtained that consent.
"There is really nothing you can say that I care to hear," she declared, at last.
"The king is dead! My time is ended, evidently! But, as there is something you can say which I care to hear, I again urge you to consent."