"Of course not," answered Elizabeth, good-naturedly; "how could you think so? I know you never cared for milk in the least, Kate, and I shouldn't be likely, therefore, to bring it up.—And right there in the Forum I'd see my own flower-garden. And in the Colosseum I'd see our little church here, and even hear the bell."
"Absurd!" said Kate.
"I reckon it was absurd," Betty agreed, though wiping her eyes at the same time. "And at the Vatican, there among the statues, Kate—do you know I was always seeing likenesses to you."
"Oh, well—that," responded Kate, as if there might be grounds for associations of that nature. "And Garda Thorne, by this time, I suppose, is living there quite alone?" she went on, comfortably.
"Oh no; she has a companion, Madame Clementer."
"Clementi," said Lanse; "I know her—an American, Miss Morris. He ran through all her money."
"Yes, that is the one; the Bogarduses arranged it by letter; they know her very well."
"She's a cousin of theirs, and a very nice woman; about fifty-five. Nothing could be more respectable," Lanse went on, glancing with an amused eye at Aunt Katrina's unwilling face. "You were there some time, Mrs. Carew; I suppose you saw some men?"
"The population seemed to me to consist principally of men," Betty answered, naïvely; "the streets were always crowded with them."
"That's because the Italian women don't knock about. But some of these men came to see you, I suppose?"