hy such a panic!--such a hurry to leave
her!--when she was ill--and sorry? And now how curtly, how measuredly he
wrote! Behind the hopefulness of his tone she read the humiliation and
soreness of his mind--and said to herself, with a more headlong
conviction than ever, that he would never forgive her.

No, <i>never!</i>--and especially now that she had added a thousandfold to
the original offence. She had never written to him since his departure.
Margaret French, too, was angry with her--had almost broken with her.

* * * * *

They left their boat on the Riva, and walked to the <i>Piazza</i>, through
the now starry dusk. As they passed the great door of St. Mark's, two
persons came out of the church. Kitty recognized Mary Lyster and Sir
Richard. She bowed slightly; Sir Richard put his hand to his hat in a
flurried way; but Mary, looking them both in the face, passed without
the smallest sign, unless the scorn in face and bearing might pass for
recognition.

Kitty gasped.

"She cut me!" she said, in a shaking voice.

"Oh no!" said Cliffe. "She didn't see you in the dark."

Kitty made no reply. She hurried along the northern side of the Piazza,
avoiding the groups which were gathered in the sunset light round the
flocks of feeding pigeons, brushing past the tables in front of the
cafe's, still well filled on this mild evening.

"Take care!" said Cliffe, suddenly, in a low, imperative voice.

Kitty looked up. In her abstraction she saw that she had nearly come
into collision with a woman sitting at a cafe table and surrounded by a
noisy group of men.

With a painful start Kitty perceived the mocking eyes of Mademoiselle
Ricci. The Ricci said something in Italian, staring the while at the
English lady; and the men near her laughed, some furtively, some loudly.

Cliffe's face set. "Walk quickly!" he said in her ear, hurrying her
past.

When they had reached one of the narrow streets behind the Piazza, Kitty
looked at him--white and haughtily tremulous. "What did that mean?"

"Why should you deign to ask?" was Cliffe's impatient reply. "I have
ceased to go and see her. I suppose she guesses why."

"I will have no rivalry with Mademoiselle Ricci!" cried Kitty.

"You can't help it," said Cliffe, calmly. "The powers of light are
always in rivalry with the powers of darkness."

And without further pleading or excuse he stalked on, his gaunt form and
striking head towering above th