Lady Jones always talked of Grannie as her ladyship. "I hope he has got over the loss of his daughter." "In six months!" cried Vera. "How could you suppose such a thing!" "Men's grief never lasts very long, not even a widower's," said Lady Jones; "and I've always noticed that the more a widower wants to throw himself into his wife's grave at the funeral, the sooner he begins to think about marrying again. And from the fuss Signor Provana made over his daughter, I should have expected six months would have been long enough to make him forget her." "I don't think he is that kind of man," Vera said gravely, trying to move away; but Lady Jones detained her. "What's your hurry?" she asked. "You must find it awfully dull walking alone every afternoon." "I rather like being alone--if I can have a book," Vera answered, glancing at the little volume under her arm, and thinking how far the charm of solitude surpassed Lady Jones's conversation. "Well, I'll walk a little way with you," said that lady, with exasperating patronage. "I don't like to see a young girl leading such a dull life. Why don't you never come down to the drawing-room of an evening?" "I don't want to leave Grannie." "You'd find us quite gay after your solitary salong. Two bridge tables, and besique, and sometimes even games, How, when, and where, and Consequences." "I hate cards, and I like books better than society," Vera answered frankly. "Well, you are an oddity. But you seem to have a high opinion of this Italian gentleman." "No one could help liking Signor Provana after seeing him with his daughter--and I was a good deal with them." "Yes, driving out with them on all the most expensive excursions. They quite took you up, didn't they? And it must have been very nice for you to go about in such a luxurious way after being cooped up with Gran'ma." "They were very kind." "He's a fine-looking man," said Lady Jones thoughtfully. "Not what anyone could call handsome; but a fine figure, and carries himself well. I suppose he has been in the Army. Most of these foreigners have to do a bit of soldiering in their young days." They were at the end of the parade, and Vera stopped, and held out her hand to her insistent companion. "Aren't you coming back?" asked Lady Jones. "Not yet. I shall sit here and read for a little while." "Don't you go and get a chill and make her ladyship angry with you. She won't like Dr. Wilmot's coming every day, or twice a day if he can find an excuse for it--as he did when I had my influenzer. But, of course, he knew I could afford to pay him. Well, O revore, dear," and the portly form that had been blocking out the western glow over the promontory of Bordighera slowly removed itself. Vera was not destined to be alone that afternoon. She had not read three pages when a tall figure came between her and the light, and she rose hastily to acknowledge Signor Provana's greeting.