And, leaning forward, he addressed Milbanke.
"James," he said, "I have just been making a little suggestion. While you and I are putting our ancient heads together, don't you think Mrs. Milbanke ought to study her Venice—local colour—atmosphere—all that sort of thing?"
Milbanke turned in his seat.
"Eh, David?" he exclaimed. "What's that you say?"
"I was suggesting that Mrs. Milbanke should see a little of Venice now that she is here."
He indicated the long windows of the dining-room through which the sound of voices and music was already being borne on the purple twilight.
Milbanke's face became slightly disturbed.
"Of course!—of course!" he said vaguely. "But—but neither of us care much for conventional sight-seeing; and then, you know, my time here is limited."
"Exactly!—exactly what I was saying. Your time is valuable. All the more danger of Mrs. Milbanke's hanging heavy on her hands. Now, there are some charming people staying here at present, who would only be too delighted to make her visit pleasant."
Milbanke's expression cleared.