ar frosting, and accompanied by fresh orange marmalade, which
Brook thought very good, but which Clare refused. And then there was
fruit--beautiful oranges, uncanny apples, and walnuts--and the young man
foresaw the near end of the meal, and wished that something would
happen. But still nothing happened at all.

He watched Clare's hands as she prepared an orange in the Italian
fashion, taking off the peel at one end, then passing the knife twice
completely round at right angles, and finally stripping the peel away in
four neat pieces. The hands were beautiful in their way, too thin,
perhaps, and almost too white from recent illness, but straight and
elastic, with little blue veins at the sides of the finger-joints and
exquisite nails that were naturally polished. The girl was clever with
her fingers, she could not help seeing that her neighbour was watching
her, and she peeled the orange with unusual skill and care. It was a
good one, too, and the peel separated easily from the deep yellow fruit.

"How awfully jolly!" exclaimed the young man, unconsciously, in genuine
admiration.

He was startled by the sound of his own voice, for he had not meant to
speak, and the blood rushed to his sunburnt face. Clare's eyes flashed
upon him in a glance of surprise, and the colour rose in her cheeks
also. She was evidently not pleased, and he felt that he had been guilty
of a breach of English propriety. When an Englishman does a tactless
thing he generally hastens to make it worse, becomes suddenly shy, and
flounders.

"I--I beg your pardon," stammered Brook. "I really didn't mean to
speak--that is--you did it so awfully well, you know!"

"It's the Italian way," Clare answered, beginning to quarter the orange.

She felt that she could not exactly be silent after he had apologised
for admiring her skill. But she remembered that she had felt some vanity
in what she had been doing, and had done it with some unnecessary
ostentation. She hoped that he would not say anything more, for the
sound of his voice reminded her of what she had heard him say to the
lady in white, and she hated him with all her heart.

But the young man was encouraged by her sufficiently gracious answer,
and was already glad of what he had done.

"Do all Italians do it that way?" he asked boldly.

"Generally," answered the young girl, and she began to eat the orange.

Brook took another from the dish before him.

"Let me see," he said, turning it round