k, particularly apt to receive bad impressions rather than good
ones. In less than a year she would be dancing all night with men she
had scarcely heard of before, listening to compliments of which she had
never dreamt--of course not--and to declarations which no right-minded
girl one day under eighteen could under any circumstances be thought to
expect. Such miracles as these are wrought by the eighteenth birthday.

Corbario's eyes looked from the mother to the daughter, as he and
Marcello stood on the pavement to let them get in. The Contessa touched
his outstretched hand without restraint but without cordiality, smiling
just as much as was civil, and less readily than would have been
friendly. Aurora glanced at him and laughed prettily without any
apparent reason, which is the privilege of very young girls, because
their minds are supposed to be a blank. Also because her skirt must not
quite touch the ground, one very perfect black silk ankle was distinctly
visible for a moment as she stepped into the carriage. Note that from
the eve of her eighteenth birthday till she is old enough to be really
wicked no well-regulated young woman shows her ankles. This also is one
of the miracles of time.

Marcello blushed faintly as he sat down beside Aurora. There were now
five in the big carriage, so that she was between the two men; and
though there was enough room Marcello felt the slight pressure of her
arm against his. His mother saw his colour change, and looked away and
smiled. The idea of marrying the two in a few years had often crossed
her mind, and she was pleased whenever she saw that Marcello felt a
little thrill of emotion in the girl's presence. As for Aurora, she
looked straight before her, between the heads of the two elder women,
and for a long time after they had started she seemed absorbed in
watching the receding walls of the city and the long straight road that
led back to it. The Contessa and her friend talked quietly, happy to be
together for a whole day. Corbario now and then looked from one to the
other, as if to assure himself that they were quite comfortable, and his
still face wore an unchanging look of contented calm as his eyes turned
again to the sunlit sweep of the low Campagna. Marcello looked steadily
away from Aurora, happily and yet almost painfully aware that her arm
could not help pressing against his. The horses' hoofs beat rhythmically
on the hard high road, with the steady, cheerful energ