"Angelina."
"You would?" asked Denis slowly. "And why?"
"Oh, it's rather a pretty name, don't you think?"
"Not a bad name at all, now I come to think of it. But it sounds foreign. I thought you did not care about foreigners."
"I don't. But there's one—"
"Go on," said Denis.
Mr. Marten winked.
The mists had fled from the hilltops; rocks and vineyards, and the sea at their foot, lay flooded in sunshine. With one accord, the two young men rose from the ground and turned their steps homewards. The mineralogical lesson was over.
"Coming to Keith's to-night?" enquired Marten with a fine show of nonchalance.
"I don't know."