"Well, I won't plead his cause any more," she said. "Only I believe you're prejudiced." She paused, and then, looking the old woman in the face, added, "I ought to tell you that he and I have become great friends." Miss Quisante had stopped laughing; now she made a gesture which seemed to indicate that she washed her hands of any responsibility. But she appeared fretful and disturbed. "I'm immensely impressed by him; and I think these faults you talk so much about are only superficial. They can't really belong to his nature when so much that's fine does." Her voice shook a little as she implored a merciful judgment from the relentless old lady. Aunt Maria's shrewd eyes grew softer. "I used to say that to myself for ever so long," she said. "I catch myself saying it now and then even now." "You're disappointed at not--not getting on better with him, and it makes you bitter." "And you? You get on very well with him?" "I don't think I'm blind about him. I see what you mean and what a lot of people feel. If there is a pit, I've walked into it open-eyed." "He's in love with you, of course?" A denial was hardly worth while and quite useless. "You must ask him that, Miss Quisante," May replied. Aunt Maria nodded and gazed at her long and steadily. "Yes, you're his Empress among women," she said at last with a little sneer. "Sandro has a phrase for everything and everybody. And are you in love with him?" May had wanted to come to close quarters and was glad that Aunt Maria gave her a lead. But she did not return a direct answer to the question. "You wouldn't be encouraging, if I were thinking of becoming his wife." "It would be very extraordinary that you should." "I've no particular desire to be ordinary," said May, smiling. Miss Quisante leant forward suddenly and held up a short forefinger. "My dear, you'd be very unhappy," she said. Then she leant back again and received in complete stillness May's meditative gaze. "In a good many ways perhaps I should," said May at last with a sigh, and her brow puckered with wrinkles. "Yes, I suppose so," she sighed again. "But I know what it is. You've let yourself get interested in Sandro; you've let him lay hold of you." May nodded. "And it would seem rather dull now to lose him?" Again May nodded, laughing a little. Aunt Maria understood her feelings very well, it seemed. "I should be dull too if I lost him." The old lady folded her hands in her lap. "There is that about Sandro," she said with a touch of pride in her voice. "I don't like him; well, you've gathered that perhaps; but if anything happened to him, I should feel I might as well lie down and die. Of course I've got nobody else belonging to me; you're not like that." Again the forefinger was raised in admonition, and Miss Quisante gave a piece of practical advice. "Marry a nice man of your own sort, my dear, and when you're safely married, be as much interested in Sandro as you like."