Each, as she handled it, breathed its own memory; of the little villa on the Portofino road, with its green shutters, and rooms closed against the sun; or of the two short visits to Lucca and Florence she had made with her father.
Among the photographs was one of the "Annunciation" by Donatello, which glorifies the southern wall of Santa Croce.

Diana had just hung it in a panelled corner, where its silvery brilliance on dark wood made a point of pleasure for the eye.

She lingered before it, wondering whether it would please _him_ when he came.

Unconsciously her life had slipped into this habit of referring all its pains and pleasures to the unseen friend--holding with him that constant dialogue of the heart without which love neither begins nor grows.
Yet she no longer dreamed of discussing Fanny, and the perplexities Fanny had let loose on Beechcote, with the living Marsham.

Money affairs must be kept to one's self; and somehow Fanny's visit had become neither more nor less than a money affair.
That morning Diana had received a letter from old Mr.Riley, the head of the firm of Riley & Bonner--a letter which was almost a lecture.