Oh! please, Mr.Manisty, will you look?
Is that Mrs.
Burgoyne ?' Manisty frowned.
'They are not in that direction .-- As to my going home, Miss Foster, I have no engagements that I cannot break.' The wounded feeling in the voice was unmistakable.

It hurt her ear.
'I should love to see all those things,' she said vaguely, still trying, as it seemed to him, to outstrip him, to search the figures in the distance; 'but--but--plans are so difficult.

Oh! that is--that is Mr.Neal!' She began to run towards the approaching figure, and presently Manisty could hear her asking breathlessly for Mrs.Burgoyne.
Manisty stood still.

Then as they approached him, he said-- 'Neal!--well met! Will you take these ladies to the station, or, at any rate, put them in their cab?
It is time for their train.

I dine in Rome.' He raised his hat formally to Lucy, turned, and went his way.
* * * * * It was night at the villa.
Eleanor was in her room, the western room overlooking the olive-ground and the Campagna, which Lucy had occupied for a short time on her first arrival.
It was about half an hour since Eleanor had heard Manisty's cab arrive, and his voice in the library giving his orders to Alfredo.