The young man had been just a trifle too sure of her interest; the episode of the hotel register must not go unpunished.
But--it was a beautiful morning, a long empty day stretched before her, and Monte Maggiore looked alluring; there was no pursuit, for the moment, which she enjoyed as much as donkey-riding.

Oh yes, she was spiting herself as well as Tony; but considering the circumstances the sacrifice seemed necessary.
When the _Farfalla_ drifted up ready to take the mountain-climbers, Miss Hazel suggested (Constance possessed to a large degree the diplomatic faculty of making other people propose what she herself had decided on) that she and her niece cross with them.

Tony was sulky, and Constance could not forgo the pleasure of baiting him further.
They put in at the village, on their way, for the morning mail; Mr.
Wilder wished his paper, even at the risk of not beginning the ascent before the sun was high.

Giuseppe brought back from the post, among other matters, a letter for Constance.

The address was in a dashing, angular hand that pretty thoroughly covered the envelope.