Flirting with any man she could pick
up; sitting in corners with mysterious Italians; dancing all the evening
with the same partners; receiving visits at eleven o'clock at night. Her
mother goes away when visitors come."

"But her brother," said Winterbourne, laughing, "sits up till midnight."

"He must be edified by what he sees. I'm told that at their hotel
everyone is talking about her, and that a smile goes round among all the
servants when a gentleman comes and asks for Miss Miller."

"The servants be hanged!" said Winterbourne angrily. "The poor girl's
only fault," he presently added, "is that she is very uncultivated."

"She is naturally indelicate," Mrs. Walker declared.

"Take that example this morning. How long had you known her at Vevey?"

"A couple of days."

"Fancy, then, her making it a personal matter that you should have left
the place!"

Winterbourne was silent for some moments; then he said, "I suspect, Mrs.
Walker, that you and I have lived too long at Geneva!" And he added a
request that she should inform him with what particular design she had
made him enter her carriage.

"I wished to beg you to cease your relations with Miss Miller--not to
flirt with her--to give her no further opportunity to expose herself--to
let her alone, in short."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," said Winterbourne. "I like her extremely."

"All the more reason that you shouldn't help her to make a scandal."

"There shall be nothing scandalous in my attentions to her."

"There certainly will be in the way she takes them. But I have said what
I had on my conscience," Mrs. Walker pursued. "If you wish to rejoin the
young lady I will put you down. Here, by the way, you have a chance."

The carriage was traversing that part of the Pincian Garden that
overhangs the wall of Rome and overlooks the beautiful Villa Borghese.
It is bordered by a large parapet, near which there are several seats.
One of the seats at a distance was occupied by a gentleman and a lady,
toward whom Mrs. Walker gave a toss of her head. At the same moment
these persons rose and walked toward the parapet. Winterbourne had asked
the coachman to stop; he now descended from the carriage. His companion
looked at him a moment in silence; then, while he raised his hat, she
drove majestically away. Winterbourne stood there; he had turned his
eyes toward Daisy and her cavalier. They evidently saw no one; they were
too deeply occupied with each other. When