The fancies of a mad-woman were best forgotten,--so common-sense told her.

But over the unrest of her own heart, over the electrical tension and dumb hostility that had somehow arisen between her and Eleanor Burgoyne, common-sense had small power.

She could only say to herself with growing steadiness of purpose that it would be best for her not to go to Vallombrosa, but to make arrangements as soon as possible to join the Porters' friends at Florence, and go on with them to Switzerland.
To distract herself, she presently drew towards her the open portfolio of Eleanor's sketches, which was lying on the table.

Most of them she had seen before, and Mrs.Burgoyne had often bade her turn them over as she pleased.
She looked at them, now listlessly, now with sudden stirs of feeling.

Here was the niched wall of the Nemi temple; the arched recesses overgrown with ilex and fig and bramble; in front the strawberry pickers stooping to their work.