there it is sunny very often--"

"And you don't need a house," said Alvina. "I should like that."

"Yes, it is nice--but you don't know the life. And you would be
alone with people like animals. And if you go to Italy he will beat
you--he will beat you--"

"If I let him," said Alvina.

"But you can't help it, away there from everybody. Nobody will help
you. If you are a wife in Italy, nobody will help you. You are his
property, when you marry by Italian law. It is not like England.
There is no divorce in Italy. And if he beats you, you are
helpless--"

"But why should he beat me?" said Alvina. "Why should he want to?"

"They do. They are so jealous. And then they go into their
ungovernable tempers, horrible tempers--"

"Only when they are provoked," said Alvina, thinking of Max.

"Yes, but you will not know what provokes him. Who can _say_ when he
will be provoked? And then he beats you--"

There seemed to be a gathering triumph in Madame's bright black
eyes. Alvina looked at her, and turned to the door.

"At any rate I know now," she said, in rather a flat voice.

"And it is _true_. It is all of it true," whispered Madame
vindictively. Alvina wanted to run from her.

"I _must_ go to the kitchen," she said. "Shall we go down?"

Alvina did not go into the drawing-room with Madame. She was too
much upset, and she had almost a horror of seeing Ciccio at that
moment.

Miss Pinnegar, her face stained carmine by the fire, was helping
Mrs. Rollings with the dinner.

"Are they both staying, or only one?" she said tartly.

"Both," said Alvina, busying herself with the gravy, to hide her
distress and confusion.

"The man as well," said Miss Pinnegar. "What does the woman want to
bring _him_ for? I'm sure I don't know what your father would say--a
common show-fellow, _looks_ what he is--and staying to dinner."

Miss Pinnegar was thoroughly out of temper as she tried the
potatoes. Alvina set the table. Then she went to the drawing-room.

"Will you come to dinner?" she said to her two guests.

Ciccio rose, threw his cigarette into the fire, and looked round.
Outside was a faint, watery sunshine: but at least it was out of
doors. He felt himself imprisoned and out of his element. He had an
irresistible impulse to go.

When he got into the hall he laid his hand on his hat. The stupid,
constrained smile was on his face.

"I'll go now," he said.

"We have set the table for you," said Alvina.

"Stop now, s