CHAPTER XI.
After Manisty had carried off his sister, Eleanor and Lucy sat together in the garden, talking sometimes, but more often silent, till the sun began to drop towards Ostia and the Mediterranean.
'You must come in,' said Eleanor, laying her hand on the girl's.

'The chill is beginning.' Lucy rose, conscious again of the slight giddiness of fever, and they walked towards the house.

Half way, Lucy said with sudden, shy energy-- 'I do _wish_ I were quite myself! It is I who ought to be helping you through this--and I am just nothing but a worry!' Eleanor smiled.
'You distract our thoughts,' she said.

'Nothing could have made this visit of Alice's other than a trial.' She spoke kindly, but with that subtle lack of response to Lucy's sympathy which had seemed to spring first into existence on the day of Nemi.

Lucy had never felt at ease with her since then, and her heart, in truth, was a little sore.