“She’s not having it now, I should imagine—since he’s coming to Venice.” “I like treats, and I like being admired, and I liked the poaching,” Lucinda pursued. “He gave me all that. And he really was generously indignant at my having to earn an honest living—no, having to earn a poor living, I mean.” “He gave Arsenio money too, didn’t he?” Of course I knew the answer, but I had my reason for putting the question. “Yes; I didn’t know it, but I suspected it—or Arsenio wouldn’t have been so accommodating to him. But he really wanted to help me, to make things easier for me. That wasn’t her motive!” Remembering what I did of Lady Dundrannan’s attitude and demeanor during my stay at Villa San Carlo, I did not feel equal to arguing that it was. “So—altogether—I let him flirt with me a good deal. I don’t think you know much about flirtation, do you, Julius? Oh, I don’t mean love! Well, it’s a series of advances and retreats, you see.” (She entered on this exposition with a feigned and hollow gravity.) “When the man advances, the woman retreats. But if the man retreats, the woman advances. And so it goes on. Do you at all see, Julius?” “I’m disposed to believe that you’re giving me a practical demonstration—of the advance!” She laughed gaily. “Pure theory—for the moment, at all events! But he didn’t always advance at the proper moment. Never you dare to tell Nina that! But he didn’t. I’m not a vain woman, am I, or I shouldn’t tell even you! Something always seemed to bring him up short. Fear of Nina, do you think? Or was he too big a man? Or had he scruples?” “A bit of all three, perhaps.” I had had the benefit of another version of this story—at Paris. “Anyhow he never did, or suggested, anything very desperate. And so—I’m rather wondering what’s bringing him to Venice. Because now we’re rich—we have at least a competence. We’re respectable. Monsieur Valdez can afford to be honest; Madame Valdez can afford to keep straight. Desperation might have had its chance at Nice. Oh, yes, it might easily! It hasn’t surely got half such a good chance now? I mean, it couldn’t seem to have—to Godfrey Frost.” “I’m not quite sure about that. He saw the famous meeting at Cimiez. He’s told me about it—I told you I’d seen him since, didn’t I? I fancy he understands your feelings better than you think. He has a good brain and—plenty of curiosity.” “Then if he does understand—and still comes to Venice——?” She looked at me with her brows raised and a smile on her lips. “Looks serious, doesn’t it?” she ended. She broke into low laughter. “It would be such glorious fun to become Mrs. Godfrey Frost!” “You’ve got a husband still, remember!” “That’s nothing—now. Or do you set up Arsenio as morality?” “Oh, no! If Arsenio’s morality, why, damn morality!” I said.