He was shown into the salotto alone, but Effie Bowen came running in to meet him. She stopped suddenly, bridling. "You never expected to see me looking quite so pretty," said Colville, tracing the cause of her embarrassment to his summer splendour. "Where is your mamma?" "She is in the dining-room," replied the child, getting hold of his hand. "She wants you to come and have coffee with us." "By all means--not that I haven't had coffee already, though." She led the way, looking up at him shyly over her shoulder as they went. Mrs. Bowen rose, napkin in lap, and gave him a hand of welcome. "How are you feeling to-day?" she asked, politely ignoring his finery. "Like a new man," he said. And then he added, to relieve the strain of the situation, "Of the best tailor's make in Florence." "You look very well," she smiled. "Oh, I always do when I take pains," said Colville. "The trouble is that I don't always take pains. But I thought I would to-night, in upon a lady." "Effie will feel very much flattered," said Mrs. Bowen. "Don't refuse a portion of the satisfaction," he cried. "Oh, is it for me too?" This gave Colville consolation which no religion or philosophy could have brought him, and his pleasure was not marred, but rather heightened, by the little pangs of expectation, bred by long custom, that from moment to moment Imogene would appear. She did not appear, and a thrill of security succeeded upon each alarm. He wished her well with all his heart; such is the human heart that he wished her arrived home the betrothed of that excellent, that wholly unobjectionable young man, Mr. Morton. "Will you have a little of the ice before your coffee?" asked Mrs. Bowen, proposing one of the moulded creams with her spoon. "Yes, thank you. Perhaps I will take it in place of the coffee. They forgot to offer us any ice at the _table d'hote_ this evening." "This is rather luxurious for us," said Mrs. Bowen. "It's a compromise with Effie. She wanted me to take her to Giacosa's this afternoon." "I _thought_ you would come," whispered the child to Colville. Her mother made a little face of mock surprise at her. "Don't give yourself away, Effie." "Why, let us go to Giacosa's too," said Colville, taking the ice. "We shall be the only foreigners there, and we shall not even feel ourselves foreign. It's astonishing how the hot weather has dispersed the tourists. I didn't see a Baedeker on the whole way up here, and I walked down Via Tornabuoni across through Porta Rosso and the Piazza della Signoria and the Uffizzi. You've no idea how comfortable and home-like it was--all the statues loafing about in their shirt sleeves, and the objects of interest stretching and yawning round, and having a good rest after their winter's work." Effie understood Colville's way of talking well enough to enjoy this; her mother did not laugh. "Walked?" she asked. "Certainly. Why not?" "You are getting well again. You'll soon be gone too."