"I mean she is absolutely disreputable. If you had seen her in the picture gallery, with a crowd of men round her--your husband among them--laughing immoderately, as men only laugh when outrageous things are being said!" "And was she saying the outrageous things?" "Undoubtedly. I watched her from a distance, while I pretended to be looking at the pictures. Vera, I don't want to worry you, but that woman is dangerous!" "Dangerous?" "Yes, like the Lurlei and people of that class. She is the very woman Solomon described in Proverbs--and _he_ knew. She is a danger for you, Vera, a danger for your peace of mind. She is a wicked enchantress, an enemy to all happy wives; and she is trying to steal your husband." "I am not afraid.". "But you ought to be afraid. Roger and I are not a romantic couple; but if I saw him too attentive to such a woman as Mrs. B. I should--well, Vera, I should take measures. Remember, the woman is the danger. It doesn't matter how much a man flirts, as long as he flirts with the harmless woman. You really should take measures." "That is not in my line, Susie. When my husband has left off caring for me I shall know it, and that will be the end." Susan looked at her with anxious scrutiny. "I'm afraid you are leaving off caring for him," she said rather sadly. "Never mind, dear. The sands are running through the glass, whether we are glad or sorry, and the end of the hour will come." "Don't!" cried Susie, wincing as if she had been hit. "Good night, dear, I am very tired." "Yes, that's what it means!" Susie kissed her effusively. "Your nerves are worn to snapping point, you poor, pale thing. Good night." Vera was on the Palatine Hill next morning before Lady Susan had left her sumptuous bed, a vast expanse of embroidered linen and down pillows, under a canopy of satin and gold. Painted cherubim looked down upon her from the white satin dome, cherubs or cupids, she was not sure to which order the rosy cheeks and winged shoulders belonged. "They must be cupids," she decided at last. "They have too many legs for cherubim." Vera was wandering among the vestiges of Imperial Rome with the dog Boroo for company. She liked to roam about these weedy pathways, among the dust of a hundred palaces, in the clear, sunlit morning, at an hour when no tourist's foot had passed the gate.