The touch of physical delicacy seemed to have brought back the child.
Then, turning back to her companion, Eleanor saw the sudden softness in Manisty's face--the alert expectancy of his attitude.
'What a wonderful oval of the head and cheek!' he said under his breath, half to himself, half to her.

'Do you know, Eleanor, what she reminds me of ?' Eleanor shook her head.
'Of that little head--little face rather--that I gave you at Nemi.

Don't you see it ?' 'I always said she was like your Greek bust,' said Eleanor slowly.
'Ah, that was in her first archaic stage.

But now that she's more at ease with us--you see ?--there's the purity of line just the same--but subtilised--humanised--somehow! It's the change from marble to terra-cotta, isn't it ?' His fancy pleased him, and his smile turned to hers for sympathy.

Then, springing up, he went to meet Lucy.
'Oh, there can be nothing in his mind! He could not speak--look--smile--like that to _me_,' thought Eleanor with passionate relief.
Then as they approached, she rose, and with kind solicitude forced Lucy to take her chair, on the plea that she herself was going back to the villa.
Lucy touched her hand with timid gratitude.