the
grey sea, with its legions of white horses.

"What a sense one gets, from here, of the sea's immensity," Susanna
said. "I think the horizon is a million miles away."

"It is," affirmed Anthony, with conclusiveness, as one possessing exact
knowledge. Then, in a minute, "And, as we are speaking in round
numbers, are you aware that it's a million years since I last had the
pleasure of a word with you?"

Susanna's dark eyes grew big.

"A million years? Is it really," she doubted, in astonishment.

"Really and truly," asseverated he.

"A million years! How strange," she murmured, as one in a maze.

"Truth is often strange," said he.

"Yes--but this is particularly strange," she pointed out. "Because,
first, we have only known each other a week. And, secondly, I was
under the impression that you had had 'a word with me' yesterday--and
again the day before yesterday--and again the day before that."

"I beg your pardon," said he. "I have not had a word with you since we
sat by the brink of your artificial streamlet last Saturday afternoon;
and that, speaking in round numbers, was a million years ago. As for
yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the day before that,--I
don't count it having a word with you when we are surrounded by
strangers."

"Strangers--?" wondered Susanna.

"Yes," said he. "That fellow Willes, and your enchanting friend Miss
Sandus."

Susanna gave one of her light trills of laughter.

"We can't discuss our private affairs before them," said Anthony; "and
I 've been pining to discuss our private affairs."

"Have we private affairs?" Susanna questioned, in surprise.

"Of course we have," said he. "Everybody has. And it is to discuss
them that I have inveigled you into taking this walk with me. Does n't
the sort of English weather you 're at present getting a taste of make
you wish you had never left Italy?"

"Oh," she acquainted him, "it sometimes rains in Italy."

"Does it, indeed?" he enquired, opening his eyes. "But never--surely
never--at Sampaolo?"

"Yes, even sometimes at Sampaolo," she laughed. "And mercy, how the
wind can blow there! This is nothing to it. I don't think you have
any winds in England so violent as our _temporali_."

Anthony nodded, with satisfaction.

"Please go on," he urged. "I have been longing to hear more about
Sampaolo."

"Oh?" said Susanna, looking sceptical. "I feared I had wearied you
inexcusably with Sampaolo."

"Ever