"But what for, dearest?"
"Have you never heard of Ignatia?" she asked.
John shook his head.
"It's a plant. It's a homeopathic medicine. It's a cure for all sorts of things. People take it when their nerves are bad, for worry, for insomnia. It's a cure for trouble when--when you're in love."
She said it so simply, in such fear that he would laugh; but when he looked down and found the hopefulness in her eyes, laughter was impossible. He caught it back, but his nostrils quivered.
"And do you want to cure me of being in love?" he asked with a straightened face.
"I thought you'd be happier, my dear, if you could get over it."
"So you recommend Ignatia?"
"I've known it do wonders," she asserted. "Poor Claudina was very much in love with a worthless fellow--Tina--one of the gondolier!--surely you remember him. He lived on the Giudecca."
John nodded smiling.