One was marble, one travertine. Mallard held them for a moment, and smiled assent; then gave them back to her. She threw them away.
When it was time to think of departure, they went to the inn; Mallard's baggage was brought out and put into the carriage. They drove across the silent plain towards Salerno. In a pause of his conversation with Spence, Mallard drew Miriam's attention to the unfamiliar shape of Capri, as seen from this side of the Sorrento promontory. She looked, and murmured an affirmative.
"You have been to Amalfi?" he asked.
"Yes; we went last year."
"I hope you hadn't such a day as your brother and I spent there—incessant pouring rain."
"No; we had perfect weather."
At Salerno they caught a train which enabled them to reach Naples late in the evening. Mallard accompanied his friends to their hotel, and dined with them. As he and Spence were smoking together afterwards, the latter communicated some news which he had reserved for privacy.
"By-the-bye, we hear that Cecily and her aunt are at Florence, and are coming to Rome next week."
"Elgar with them?" Mallard asked, with nothing more than friendly interest.
"No. They say he is so hard at work that he couldn't leave London."