There had been almost a crowd in the gorgeous rooms that morning. She had stood elbow to elbow with so many persons that she no longer noticed them; Trafford Morgan had been able, therefore, to approach and stand beside her for several minutes without attracting her recognition. As he spoke she turned, and, in answer to his smile, gave an even slighter bow than before; it was hardly more than a movement of the eyelids. Two English girls, with large hats, sweet, shy eyes, and pink cheeks, who were standing close beside them, turned away towards the left for a minute to look at another picture. "Do not treat me badly," he said. "I need kindness. I am not very happy." "I can understand that," she answered. Here the English girls came back again. "I think you are wrong in admiring it," he said, looking at the portrait; "it is a quite impossible picture. A youth with that small, delicate head and face could never have had those shoulders; they are the shoulders of quite another type of man. This is some boy whom Titian wished to flatter; but he was artist enough to try and hide the flattery by that overcoat. The face has no calm; you would not have admired it in life." "On the contrary, I should have admired it greatly," replied Miss Stowe. "I should have adored it. I should have adored the eyes." "Surely there is nothing in them but a sort of pugnacity." "Whatever it is, it is delightful." The English girls now turned away towards the right. "You are quite changed," he said, looking at her. "Yes, I think I am. I am much more agreeable. Every one will tell you so; even Madame Ferri, who is obliged to reconcile it with my having been always more agreeable than any one in the world, you know. I have become lighter. I am no longer heavy." "You mean you are no longer serious." "That is it. I used to be absurdly serious. But it is an age since we last met. You were going to Trieste, were you not? I hope you found it agreeable?" "It is not an age; it is a year." "Oh, a great deal can happen in a year," said Miss Stowe, turning away. She was as richly dressed as ever, and not quite so plainly. Her hair was arranged in little rippling waves low down upon her forehead, which made her look, if not what might be called more worldly, at least more fashionable, since previously she had worn it arranged with a simplicity which was neither. Owing to this new arrangement of her hair, her eyes looked larger and darker. He continued to walk beside her for some moments, and then, as she came upon a party of friends, he took leave. In the evening he called upon Miss Harrison, and remained an hour. Miss Stowe was not at home. The next day he sent to Miss Harrison a beautiful basket of flowers. "He knows we always keep the rooms full of them," remarked Miss Stowe, rather disdainfully. "All the same, I like the attention," said Miss Harrison. And she sent him an invitation to dinner. She liked to have one guest.