"May I call on you to-morrow?" he asked, trembling for the answer.
"If you would like to, yes," she answered readily. "Come early if you have nothing to do, and we will give you afternoon tea à l'Anglaise. By the bye," she added, a little shyly, "is there not something which you have forgotten?"
He divined her meaning at once.
"Of course, I ought to have told you my name!" he exclaimed hastily. "How stupid of me. It is St. Maurice—Lord St Maurice."
"Lord St Maurice! Then are you not the fortunate possessor of that delightful little yacht in the harbor?"
"Yes, if you mean the Pandora, she's mine. Do you like sailing? Will you come for a sail?" he asked eagerly.
"We'll talk about it to-morrow," she laughed, holding out her hand. "Good-night."
He let her hand go. If he held it a moment longer, and a little more firmly than was absolutely necessary, was he much to blame?
"Good-night," he said. "Good-night, Signorina," he added, bowing to Margharita. "I shall come to-morrow afternoon."
Then he turned away, and walked with long swinging steps back to the hotel.