"I saw her (and it is the last sweet sight that I remember) leaning from her window midway between earth and sky!" Kenyon now looked at Donatello.
"You seem out of spirits, my dear friend," he observed.

"This languid Roman atmosphere is not the airy wine that you were accustomed to breathe at home.

I have not forgotten your hospitable invitation to meet you this summer at your castle among the Apennines.

It is my fixed purpose to come, I assure you.

We shall both be the better for some deep draughts of the mountain breezes." "It may he," said Donatello, with unwonted sombreness; "the old house seemed joyous when I was a child.