“A house, mother, in Naples, not far from the water, you see.”
The old lady was silent awhile. Then she murmured, “I have seen it, haven’t you, somewhere?”
“Why, yes—no. What is it?”
But the old lady herself was confused about it. She looked at the fair home by the sea, and then looked again, but she could not seem to positively identify it.
“And still I have seen it before,” she affirmed.
To identify the spot was like trying to get hold of the exact form of a ship that partially breaks through the fog and then recedes, ever coming yet ever vanishing.
[Chapter XVII.]
Two Mud-Turtles.
“There goes a man drunk, Aunt Stanshy.”