Lady Alice paused. She still held her half-sister by the arm, towering above her. She was quite as thin as Kitty, but much taller and more largely built; and, beside the elaborate elegance of Kitty's mourning, Alice's black veil and dress had a severe, conventual air. They were almost the dress of a religious.
"How are you?" she said, gently. "I often think of you. Are you happy in your marriage?"
Kitty laughed.
"We're such a happy lot, aren't we? We understand it so well. Oh, don't trouble about me. You know you said you couldn't have anything to do with me. Are you staying in Venice?"
"I came in from Treviso for a day or two, to see a friend—"
"You had better not stay," said Kitty, hastily. "Maman is here. At least, if you don't want to run across her."
Lady Alice let go her hold.
"I shall go home to-morrow morning."
They moved on a few steps in silence, then Alice paused. Kitty's delicate face and cloud of hair made a pale, luminous spot in the darkness of the calle. Alice looked at her with emotion.
"I want to say something to you."