Effie looked a pretty surprise and a pleasure in this girlish burst from her mother, whose habitual serenity made it more striking in contrast, and she forsook Miss Graham's hand and ran forward and disposed the easy-chairs comfortably about the hearth. Colville and Mrs. Bowen suddenly found themselves upon those terms which often succeed a long separation with people who have felt kindly toward each other at a former meeting and have parted friends: they were much more intimate than they had supposed themselves to be, or had really any reason for being. "Which one of your guests do you wish me to offer up, Mrs. Bowen?" he asked, from the hollow of the arm-chair, not too low, which he had sunk into. With Mrs. Bowen in a higher chair at his right hand, and Miss Graham intent upon him from the sofa on his left, a sense of delicious satisfaction filled him from head to foot. "There isn't one I would spare if you said the word." "And there isn't one I want destroyed, I'm sorry to say," answered Mrs. Bowen. "Don't you think they were all very agreeable?" "Yes, yes; agreeable enough--agreeable enough, I suppose. But they stayed too long. When I think we might have been sitting here for the last half-hour, if they'd only gone sooner, I find it pretty hard to forgive them." Mrs. Bowen and Miss Graham exchanged glances above his head--a glance which demanded, "Didn't I tell you?" for a glance that answered, "Oh, he _is_!" Effie Bowen's eyes widened; she kept them fastened upon Colville in silent worship. He asked who were certain of the company that he had noticed, and Mrs. Bowen let him make a little fun of them: the fun was very good-natured. He repeated what the German had said about the worldly ambition of American girls; but she would not allow him so great latitude in this. She said they were no worldlier than other girls. Of course, they were fond of society, and some of them got a little spoiled. But they were in no danger of becoming too conventional. Colville did not insist. "I missed the military to-night, Mrs. Bowen," he said. "I thought one couldn't get through an evening in Florence without officers?" "We have them when there is dancing," returned Mrs. Bowen. "Yes, but they don't know anything but dancing," Miss Graham broke in. "I like some one who can talk something besides compliments." "You are very peculiar, you know, Imogene," urged Mrs. Bowen gently. "I don't think our young men at home do much better in conversation, if you come to that, though." "Oh, _young_ men, yes! They're the same everywhere. But here, even when they're away along in the thirties, they think that girls can only enjoy flattery. _I_ should like a gentleman to talk to me without a single word or look to show that he thought I was good-looking." "Ah, how could he be?" Colville insinuated, and the young girl coloured. "I mean, if I were pretty. This everlasting adulation is insulting."