Pauline, as they passed up the steps into the room where
May had last been seen.

"That would depend," Geoffry answered, and there was that indescribable
something in his voice which she had heard more than once of late, and
which she always found extremely discomposing. The passing of that
breath of feeling was still troubling the waters of her consciousness
when, a moment later, they were met by the other three.

Mrs. Daymond came forward and took both Pauline's hands, and, straightway
it seemed to Pauline as if a bountiful beneficent power had encompassed
her round about.

"Geof," said his mother, turning to him, with the unfailing grace of
tone and gesture which was a source of perennial delight to the Colonel;
"I find that Colonel Steele's Venetian education is only half
accomplished. He does not know San Simeone. Supposing we all go and see
the old hero. It has stopped raining and the men must be longing to have
us come out again."

"I'm always ready for St. Simon," Geof declared.

"I don't see how we ever overlooked him in the books," said May. "He
sounds perfectly tremendous, with his hollow cheeks and his solemn dead
face."

"Then we are all going?" and Mrs. Daymond looked questioningly at
Pauline who had not spoken. It was as if the elder woman had divined
something of the unwonted reluctance that had possessed itself of the
young girl.

"Do you mind if I stay behind?" Pauline asked, hesitatingly; "I should
like to stay on here for a little while, and then I should be glad of
the walk home. So please take both the gondolas."

"Polly doesn't like sharp contrasts," the Colonel remarked, as he
passed, with the others, out of the gallery and down the stairs. "She
has probably got her mind going on some little private inspiration, and
she doesn't take to the idea of a dead saint."

"No more do I!" Geof announced, with a reckless inconsistency, that took
no thought of appearances; and, having seen the party safely ensconced
under the _felze_ of Pietro's gondola, he retraced his steps, his head
slightly bent, his hands clasped behind him.

The rain had ceased, and a timid relenting had stolen into the west.
Geof turned and glanced from the sky to Vittorio's gondola which still
lay moored under the shelter of the bridge.

"If I only dared!" he said to himself; and then, flinging his head back,
with a free, boyish gesture, he strode on to the entrance of the
gallery.

Pauline had returned to her seat b