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She labelled the Marchesino "Philistine," and popped him into his
drawer.
Lunch was over, and they got up.
"Are you afraid of the heat out-of-doors, Marchese?" Hermione asked,
"or shall we have coffee in the garden? There is a trellis, and we
shall be out of the sun."
"Signora, I am delighted to go out."
He got his straw hat, and they went into the tiny garden and sat down
on basket-work chairs under a trellis, set in the shadow of some fig-
trees. Giulia brought them coffee, and the Marchesino lighted a
cigarette.
He said to himself that he had never been in love before.
Vere wore a white dress. She had no hat on, but held rather carelessly
over her small, dark head a red parasol. It was evident that she was
not afraid even of the midday sun. That new look in her face, soft
womanhood at the windows gazing at a world more fully, if more sadly,
understood, fascinated him, sent the blood up to his head. There was a
great change in her. To-day she knew what before she had not known.


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