"Rufus, I hope," the sweet voice continued, so gently,--"I hope he's found something to do that's very grand! Don't you?
Something to make up to him for doing that!" She had not the faintest dream that it was I.It was just her beautiful heart.
The next afternoon Venice was a bleak and empty setting, the jewel gone.

How vacant it looked, how vacant it was! We made not any effort to penetrate the galleries; I had no heart to urge my friend.

For us the whole of Venice had become one bridge of sighs, and we sat in the shade of the piazza, not watching the pigeons, and listening very little to the music.

There are times when St.Mark's seems to glare at you with Byzantine cruelty, and Venice is too hot and too cold.

So it was then.
Evening found us staring out at the Adriatic from the terrace of a cafe' on the Ledo, our coffee cold before us.