And then----' he waved his hand toward the lake, 'there is always the view.' 'Yes,' she agreed, 'one can always look at the view.' Her eyes wandered to the lake, and across the lake to Monte Maggiore with clouds drifting about its peak.

And while she obligingly studied the mountain, he studied the effect of the pink gown and the rose-bud hat.
She turned back suddenly and caught him; it was a disconcerting habit of Constance's.

He politely looked away, and she--with frank interest--studied him.

He was bareheaded and dressed in white flannels; they were very becoming, she noted critically, and yet--they needed just a touch of colour; a red sash, for example, and earrings.
'The guests of the Hotel du Lac,' she remarked, 'have a beautiful garden of their own.

Just the mere pleasure of strolling about in it ought to keep them contented with Valedolmo.' 'Not necessarily,' he objected.