Her puzzled eyes travelled from the drawing to Mrs.Burgoyne's face.

Then she caught sight of another photograph on the table.
'And that also ?'--she said--For again it was the face of Leo XIII .-- feminine, priestly, indomitable--that looked out upon her from among the books.
'Oh, my dear, come away,' said Miss Manisty impatiently.

'In my days the Scarlet Lady _was_ the Scarlet Lady, and we didn't flirt with her as all the world does now.

Shrewd old gentleman! I should have thought one picture of him was enough.' * * * * * As they entered the old painted salon, Mrs.Burgoyne went to one of the tall windows opening to the floor and set it wide.

Instantly the Campagna was in the room--the great moonlit plain, a thousand feet below, with the sea at its further edge, and the boundless sweep of starry sky above it.
From the little balcony, one might, it seemed, have walked straight into Orion.