licious smile on his face.

"Have a glass of port, do!" said Effie. "Nurse, give us all one. I
should like one too. And a biscuit." Again she stretched out her
long white arm from the sudden blue lining of her wrap, suddenly, as
if taken with the desire. Ciccio shifted on his feet, watching
Alvina pour out the port.

He swallowed his in one swallow, and put aside his glass.

"Have some more!" said Effie, watching over the top of her glass.

He smiled faintly, stupidly, and shook his head.

"Won't you? Now tell me the words of the song--"

He looked at her from out of the dusky hollows of his brow, and did
not answer. The faint, stupid half-smile, half-sneer was on his
lips.

"Won't you tell them me? I understood one line--"

Ciccio smiled more pronouncedly as he watched her, but did not
speak.

"I understood one line," said Effie, making big eyes at him. "_Ma
non me lasciare_--_Don't leave me!_ There, isn't that it?"

He smiled, stirred on his feet, and nodded.

"Don't leave me! There, I knew it was that. Why don't you want Nurse
to leave you? Do you want her to be with you _every minute_?"

He smiled a little contemptuously, awkwardly, and turned aside his
face, glancing at Alvina. Effie's watchful eyes caught the glance.
It was swift, and full of the terrible yearning which so horrified
her.

At the same moment a spasm crossed her face, her expression went
blank.

"Shall we go down?" said Alvina to Ciccio.

He turned immediately, with his cap in his hand, and followed. In
the hall he pricked up his ears as he took the mandoline from the
chest. He could hear the stifled cries and exclamations from Mrs.
Tuke. At the same moment the door of the study opened, and the
musician, a burly fellow with troubled hair, came out.

"Is that Mrs. Tuke?" he snapped anxiously.

"Yes. The pains have begun," said Alvina.

"Oh God! And have you left her!" He was quite irascible.

"Only for a minute," said Alvina.

But with a _Pf_! of angry indignation, he was climbing the stairs.

"She is going to have a child," said Alvina to Ciccio. "I shall have
to go back to her." And she held out her hand.

He did not take her hand, but looked down into her face with the
same slightly distorted look of overwhelming yearning, yearning
heavy and unbearable, in which he was carried towards her as on a
flood.

"Allaye!" he said, with a faint lift of the lip that showed his
teeth, like a pained animal: a curious sort of smi