"Did he tell you that?"
"You told me yourself! We never spoke of Veronica."
"Then what did you speak of?"
"Of other things. How you catechise!"
"If I catechise it's because I thought it was all for me."
"For you—and for him. I went to Frascati again," said Mrs. Rushbrook.
"Lord, and what was that for?"
"It was for you," she smiled. "It was a kindness, if they're so uncomfortable together. I relieve them, I know I do!"
"Gracious, you might live with them! Perhaps that's the way out of it."
"We took another walk to Villa Mondragone," my hostess continued. "Augusta Goldie went with us. It went off beautifully."
"Oh, then it's all right," I said, picking up my hat.
Before I took leave of her Mrs. Rushbrook told me that she certainly would move to Rome on the Thursday—or on the Friday. She would give me a sign as soon as she was settled. And she added: "I daresay I shall be able to put my idea into execution. But I shall tell you only if it succeeds."
I don't know why I felt, at this, a slight movement of contrariety; at any rate I replied: "Oh, you had better leave them alone."
On the Wednesday night of that week I found, on coming in to go to bed, Wilmerding's card on my table, with "Good-bye—I'm off to-morrow for a couple of months" scrawled on it. I thought it an odd time for him to be "off"—I wondered whether anything had happened. My servant had not seen him; the card had been transmitted by the porter, and I was obliged to