"Have you enjoyed yourself in Italy?"
"Not much. I have not been very well," Cecily answered, leaning forward.
"Did you go to Naples?"
"Only as far as Rome."
"How can any one be in Italy, and not go to Naples?" said Madeline, in a low tone of wonder.
Silence came again. Cecily listened to the sound of breathing. Madeline coughed, and seemed to make a fruit less effort to speak; then she commanded her voice.
"I took a dislike to you at Naples," she said, with the simple directness of one who no longer understands why every thought should not be expressed. "It began when you showed that you didn't care for Mr. Marsh's drawings. It is strange to think of that now. You know I was engaged to Mr. Marsh?"
"Yes."
"He used to write me letters; I mean, since this. But it is a long time since the last came. No doubt he is married now. It would have been better if he had told me, and not just ceased to write. I want Zillah to write to him for me; but she doesn't like to."
"Why do you think he is married?" Cecily asked.