she added, "How would
the sum work out?"

"I don't know, I'm sure. But if you wanted to ensure the baby being
posted by return, you should have sent a little sum to HIM. Oh, I'm not
cynical--at least I only go by what I know of him. But I am weary of
the whole show. Weary of Italy. Weary, weary, weary. Sawston's a kind,
pitiful place, isn't it? I will go walk in it and seek comfort."

He smiled as he spoke, for the sake of not appearing serious. When he
had left her she began to smile also.

It was to the Abbotts' that he walked. Mr. Abbott offered him tea, and
Caroline, who was keeping up her Italian in the next room, came in to
pour it out. He told them that his mother had written to Signor Carella,
and they both uttered fervent wishes for her success.

"Very fine of Mrs. Herriton, very fine indeed," said Mr. Abbott,
who, like every one else, knew nothing of his daughter's exasperating
behaviour. "I'm afraid it will mean a lot of expense. She will get
nothing out of Italy without paying."

"There are sure to be incidental expenses," said Philip cautiously.
Then he turned to Miss Abbott and said, "Do you suppose we shall have
difficulty with the man?"

"It depends," she replied, with equal caution.

"From what you saw of him, should you conclude that he would make an
affectionate parent?"

"I don't go by what I saw of him, but by what I know of him."

"Well, what do you conclude from that?"

"That he is a thoroughly wicked man."

"Yet thoroughly wicked men have loved their children. Look at Rodrigo
Borgia, for example."

"I have also seen examples of that in my district."

With this remark the admirable young woman rose, and returned to keep
up her Italian. She puzzled Philip extremely. He could understand
enthusiasm, but she did not seem the least enthusiastic. He could
understand pure cussedness, but it did not seem to be that either.
Apparently she was deriving neither amusement nor profit from the
struggle. Why, then, had she undertaken it? Perhaps she was not sincere.
Perhaps, on the whole, that was most likely. She must be professing one
thing and aiming at another. What the other thing could be he did not
stop to consider. Insincerity was becoming his stock explanation for
anything unfamiliar, whether that thing was a kindly action or a high
ideal.

"She fences well," he said to his mother afterwards.

"What had you to fence about?" she said suavely. Her son might know her
tactics, but she re