"Where have you been?" shouted Guiseppe. "You don't know what we've just been learning, ignorant ones that you are. The columns in the great hall are three thousand five hundred feet high, and——"
"No, no! three thousand five hundred years old," he was corrected.
"Oh, I retire crushed."
"You need a cup of tea to revive your failing mental powers. So do we all." And ere long the spirit-stove boiled away merrily and the general desire was gratified.
"You have indeed missed an interesting sight this afternoon," declared Signora Varesio.
"My unfortunate giddiness!" sighed Lucinda plaintively.
"What have you seen to compensate for it?"
"Oh, we have been over to a little temple—most interesting. But I was fated to receive shocks this afternoon. In it there is——"
"Don't tell," interposed Morris. "After tea we will take them all over and let them make the discovery for themselves. It will delight you, Evarne, I'm certain."
As he spoke he looked across at the girl with that tender smile that always penetrated to her very heart. It could do much even now to heal that dull ache that would make itself felt despite her belief in his repeated assurances of the fixity of his affection towards her sweet self, and her consequent faith that the affair with Lucinda was a mere temporary flirtation. She tried hard to be reasonable, and so long as she could think that Morris's earnest and serious love was still hers, and that the attraction any other woman might have for him was merely temporary, she felt that—although a degree of anxiety and apprehension was inevitable—she ought to be able to look down from the superior heights of constancy and make allowances for that dancing butterfly—a man's fancy.