you write?" she enquired.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "You're illustrating a book about Venice,
aren't you? That must be awfully interesting."

"I am trying," she said, "to catch the most elusive thing in the
world--the Spirit of Venice. It breaks my heart, the pursuit. Just
round the corner, always; you know Browning's 'Love in a Life'?

Heart, fear nothing, for heart, thou shalt find her,
Next time herself!--not the trouble behind her ...
Still the same chance! she goes out as I enter.
Spend my whole day in the quest;--who cares? ...

It's like that with me and my Venice. It hurts rather--but I have to go
on."

"You shouldn't, my dear," Mrs. Johnson murmured soothingly. "I'm sure you
should be careful. We mustn't play tricks with our constitutions."

Rhoda kicked Peter under the table in mistake for her mother, and never
discovered the error.

"Can you tell me," Miss Barnett added abruptly, in her cheerful voice,
"where it hides?"

Peter looked helpful and intelligent, and endeared himself to her
thereby. She thought him a sympathetic young man, with possibilities,
probably undeveloped.

Vyvian, who regarded Miss Barnett and "Venice, Her Spirit," with
contemptuous jealousy, thought that Rhoda was paying them too much
attention, and effectually called her away by saying, "If you care to
come with me to the Schiavoni, I can better explain to you what I mean."

Rhoda kindled and flushed and looked suddenly pretty. Peter heard a
smothered sigh on his left.

"I don't like it," Mrs. Johnson murmured to him. "No, I don't. If it was
you, now, as offered to take her--But there, I daresay you wouldn't be
clever enough to suit Rhoder; she's so partic'lar. You and me, now--we
get on very well; seems as if we liked to talk on the same subjects, as
it were; but Rhoder's different. When we go about together, it's always,
'Mother, not so loud! Oh, mother, you mustn't! Mother, that ain't really
beautiful at all, and you're givin' of us away. Mother, folks are
listening.' Let 'em listen is what I say. They won't hear anything that
could hurt 'em from me. But Rhoder's so quiet; she hates a bit of notice.
Not that she minds when she's with _him_; he talks away at the top of his
voice, and folks do turn an' listen--I've seen 'em. But I suppose that's
clever talk, so Rhoder don't mind."

She raised her voice from the thick and cautious whisper which she
thought suitable for these remarks, and addressed Peggy.

"Wel