ngness sensation when she
realized that he was not there, when her despair proclaimed that he
would never be there--and then, stoutly, she told herself that he would
come the next time.

They were days of dreams for her--dreams of the restaurant, of color,
light and music, of that tall, slim figure . . . dreams of the dance, of
the gay, half-teasing voice, the bright eyes, the direct smile. . . .
Every word he had uttered became precious, infinitely significant.

"_A rivederci_, Signorina. . . . Don't forget me."

She had not forgotten him. Like the wax he had named she had guarded his
image. Through all the swiftly developing experiences of those strange
days she retained that first vivid impression.

She saw him in every group. She pictured him in every excursion. Above
Johnny Byrd's light, straight hair she saw those close-cropped brown
curls. . . . She held long conversations with him. She confided her
impressions. She read him Italian poems.

But still he did not come.

And sharply she went from hope to despair. She told herself that he
would never come.

She did not believe herself. Beneath a set little pretense of
indifference she listened intently for the sound of arrivals; her heart
turned over at an approaching car.

But she did not admit it. She said that she was through with hope. She
said that she did not care whether he came or not. She said she did not
want him to come.

He was with Leila Grey, of course.

Well--she was with Johnny Byrd.

She was with him every day, for with that amazing American freedom,
Bobby Martin came down to see Ruth every day and the four young people
with other couples from the Lodge were always involved in some game,
some drive, some expedition.

But it was not accident nor a lazy concurrence with propinquity that
kept Johnny Byrd at Maria Angelina's side.

Openly he announced himself as tied hand and foot. His admiration was as
vivid as his red roadster. It was as unabashed and clamant as his motor
horn. He reveled in her. He monopolized her. In his own words, he
lapped her up.

With amazing simplicity Maria Angelina accepted this miracle. It was
only a second-rate miracle to her, for it was not the desire of her
heart, and she was uneasy about it. She did not want to be involved with
Johnny Byrd if Barry Elder should arrive. . . . Of course, if she had
never met Barry Elder. . . .

Johnny Byrd was a very nice, merry boy. And he was rich . . .
independent. .