"Oh yes. At any rate, they were married that fall. They are--I believe he's pursuing his archaeological studies there--living in Athens." "Together?" Minver smoothly inquired. At this expression of cynicism Rulledge gave him a look that would have incinerated another. Wanhope went out with Minver, and then, after a moment's daze, Rulledge exclaimed: "Jove! I forgot to ask him whether it's stopped Alford's illusions!" III A MEMORY THAT WORKED OVERTIME Minver's brother took down from the top of the low bookshelf a small painting on panel, which he first studied in the obverse, and then turned and contemplated on the back with the same dreamy smile. "I don't see how that got _here_," he said, absently. "Well," Minver returned, "you don't expect _me_ to tell you, except on the principle that any one would naturally know more about anything of yours than you would." He took it from his brother and looked at the front of it. "It isn't bad. It's pretty good!" He turned it round. "Why, it's one of old Blakey's! How did _you_ come by it?" "Stole it, probably," Minver's brother said, still thoughtfully. Then with an effect of recollecting: "No, come to think of it," he added, "Blakey gave it to me." The Minvers played these little comedies together, quite as much to satisfy their tenderness for each other as to give their friends pleasure. "Think you're the only painter that gets me to take his truck as a gift? He gave it to me, let's see, about ten years ago, when he was trying to make a die of it, and failed; I thought he would succeed. But it's been in my wife's room nearly ever since, and what I can't understand is what she's doing with it down here." "Probably to make trouble for you, somehow," Minver suggested. "No, I don't think it's _that_, quite," his brother returned, with a false air of scrupulosity, which was part of their game with each other. He looked some more at the picture, and then he glanced from it at me. "There's a very curious story connected with that sketch." "Oh, well, tell it," Minver said. "Tell it! I suppose I can stand it again. Acton's never heard it, I believe. But you needn't make a show of sparing him. I _couldn't_ stand that." "I certainly haven't heard the story," I said, "and if I had I would be too polite to own it." Minver's brother looked towards the open door over his shoulder, and Minver interpreted for him: "She's not coming. I'll give you due warning." "It was before we were married, but not much before, and the picture was a sort of wedding present for my wife, though Blakey made a show of giving it to me. Said he had painted it for me, because he had a prophetic soul, and felt in his bones that I was going to want a picture of the place where I first met her. You see, it's the little villa her mother had taken that winter on the Viale Petrarca, just outside of Florence. It _was_ the first place I met her, but not the last." "Don't be obvious," Minver ordered.