For she had seen that even now things might advance too hurriedly.

It would be wiser, and in the long run it would pay, she warned herself, to draw in--for as she still lingered and chatted with him she more and more felt that she was face to face with a resourceful and strong-willed opponent.

She noticed, through all the outward Celtic gentleness, the grim and passionate mouth, the keenness of the shifty yet penetrating hazel-gray eyes, the touch of almost bull-dog tenaciousness about the loose-jointed, high-shouldered figure, and, above all, the audacity of the careless Irish-American smile.

That smile, she felt, trailed like a flippant and fluttering tail to the kite of his racial solemnity and stubbornness of purpose, enabling it to rise higher even while seeming to weigh it down.
"And you always travel alone ?" he finally asked, shaking off the last of his reserve.
"Oh, I'm a bit of a globe-trotter--that's what you'd call me on your side of the ocean, isn't it?
You see, I go about Southern Europe picking up things for a London art firm!" "And where do you go next ?" "Oh, perhaps to Milan, perhaps to Naples; it may even be to Rome, or it might turn out to be Syracuse or Taormina.

With me, everything depends, first on the weather, and, next, on what instructions are sent on." She inwardly marveled at the glibness and spontaneity with which the words fell from her tongue.