“But, of course, I’ll see you back there with the greatest pleasure. Unless you like to allow me, even now, to show you round the town. As a matter of fact, the hotel is just round the corner. There’s the Garibaldi statue.” “I am somewhat fatigued,” she said, “and I would prefer to return.” “And you?” he said, turning to me. “There has been a mistake made,” I answered resolutely. “We took you for somebody else. You must allow us to close the acquaintance here and now.” “No idea I had a double,” he remarked. “This matter must be looked into or complications may ensue.” “We jumped to the conclusion that you were the son of the lady you are travelling with.” “I am,” he answered. Carolyn Stokes and I began to talk together; he appeared to do his best to understand us, but presently gave up the attempt and led the way to the hotel. There in the entrance hall he spoke again. “So it was because I showed some attention to my dear mother that you thought I was a courier.” We interrupted, and endeavoured once more to explain. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Had an idea this was going to be quite a pleasant friendship. Goodbye.” I kept awake half that night making my plans. But in the morning fresh English visitors—more titles—had arrived, and some of them knew him, and they surrounded him, and the girls made a fuss of him, and there was no chance of my getting near. A letter came for me from Venice saying that the writer would be in Milan on Wednesday. “Yours with affectionate regards, P. A. C.” I have now to rely upon my tact and my industry and my own bright, intelligent young mind to assist me in marrying Mr. Peter A. Chasemore. X—BEFORE LUNCH OTHER travellers were becoming jammed in the corridor of the train, their tempers taking the tone of acerbity easy to those about to start on a railway journey. A determined young woman came up the step, and supported the conductor in an appeal for order, addressing herself more particularly to the English passengers; quiet obtained, she took the first advantage of it by presenting her ticket. The conductor showed gratitude by escorting her at once to her place. “You don’t mean to say—” stammered the occupant of seat Number Twenty. “It can’t be! I shall begin to think I’m losing my senses.” “If you’re Mr. Chiswell,” she replied briskly, “there’s no reason to be afraid of that.” “A remark,” protested Mr. Chiswell, “so unkind that I can tell it comes from nobody but Miss Everitt.” She lifted her bag to the rack, and when she had succeeded in placing it there, he made a gesture of assistance. Glancing at herself in the mirror below the rack, she remarked that she looked a perfect bird frightener. “I don’t agree with you,” he said. “So far as I remember,” she said, “you seldom did.”