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That was her decision. Yet when evening fell, and her bill was paid,
she took the tram that was going down to Naples, and passed presently
before the eyes of Artois. The coming of darkness had revived within
her much of the mood of the afternoon. She felt that she could not go
home without doing something definite, and she resolved to go to the
Scoglio di Frisio, have a cup of coffee there, look through the
visitors' book, and then take a boat and return by night to the
island. The sea wind would cool her, would do her good.
Nothing told her when the eyes of her friend were for an instant fixed
upon her, when the mind of her friend for a moment wondered at the
strange, new look in her face. She left the tram presently at the
doorway above which is Frisio's name, descended to the little terrace
from which Vere had run in laughing with the Marchesino, and stood
there for a moment hesitating.
The long restaurant was lit up, and from it came the sound of music--
guitars, and a voice singing.


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