Only by exercising the greatest control over herself, could she refrain from drawing her aside and telling Jill all she had seen, all she had guessed, and all she hoped. Presently, without seeking for it, the opportunity presented itself. They had been eating little jam sandwiches--jam sandwiches, which Claudina knew how to cut so thin, that the bread was almost threadbare, and looked as if it wanted darning. They melted in your mouth, but then, they made your fingers sticky. Jill looked ruefully at hers when the tea was over. Holding them away from her at arm’s length, she made a little grimace. When one was young, one’s mouth was the best, the quickest, the most approved-of remedy for these matters. She might have wished she were a child then, but wishing was all. She asked to be allowed to wash them. "You will come into my room, dear," said the little old lady eagerly, and away she led her, where John could not hope to follow. Ah, then she was cunning, when once she had her alone! What subtle little compliments she paid! You would scarcely believe how cunning she could be. "That is your little altar?" said Jill, when she had dried her hands. As she walked across to it, the old lady took her arm. It needed but little manipulation from there to slip her hand into Jill’s. It needed but little management to show her in a hundred tender ways as she clung to her for support, that she found her very dear, very loveable. The hearts of women are responsive things. When there is sympathy between them, they touch and answer, as though some current united them, as well indeed it may. So gentle, so expressive were those simple signs that passed between Jill and the little old white-haired lady, that Jill was stricken in conscience, realising all that they meant and wondering, almost guiltily, what they would think of her if they knew. They must never know. She could not bear the thought that these two old people, far away in Venice as they might be, should hold in their hearts anything but the affection which they were showing to her then. "I was praying here just before you came," said the little old lady in a whisper. Jill pressed the withered hand. "Do you know what I was praying for?" A sudden fear seized Jill. She felt her forehead cold. "No----" she tried to smile--"How could I know?" "I was praying for John." She looked up simply into Jill’s face. "He’s such a dear boy, you don’t know. Look at the way he comes every year to see us--all the way from London. I wonder would any other son do as much. Do you think they would?" She asked the question as naïvely as if, were there any doubt about it, she really would like to know. You might have known there was no doubt in her mind. Before that little altar then, was a dangerous place to discuss such subjects. Jill drew her gently away towards the door. "Do you think there are any other sons have such a mother?" she said. "Why don’t you ask yourself that question?"