Vane liked her very much, and thought her very much underrated by the world; and the same afternoon, by way of vindication, he went to her house and made a long call, _tête-à-tête_. He had fallen into an easy companionship with her, which made her society a delightful rest and respite from the earnest stress and strain of his life, of any man's life. They were beginning to have numerous little confidences as to people and things; views shared by them only, which gave them little private topics of conversation, nooks of thought, where they met. Thus Vane could quite shut out a third party from the conversation, and keep Miss Thomas to himself. Her cultivation and taste surprised him more and more as he knew her. This pretty little New York girl, naturally half-spoiled and petted, brought up in a particularly _bourgeois_ household, never having been out of it and New York, had yet a range of mind and appreciation quite equal to anything he could bring her in books or in conversation. The people about her seemed totally different--different in views, in taste, in appearance, in manner. Yet she never seemed discontented at home--a common fault of children in a country where they improve upon their parents. She moved among them modestly and lovingly, like a princess unconscious of her royalty. All this thought Vane, and marvelled. He found that even his peculiar tastes were shared. It has been mentioned that this successful young business man had a secret taste for Italian poetry. This he had been used to indulge alone; but on his mentioning it, she spoke with enthusiasm of the sweet old mediæval _terza rima_. Having little opinion of women's power of purely ideal enjoyment, he had at first doubted the sincerity of this taste. Still, he brought around some old verses one day; and soon it became his habit, instead of reading alone, to pass an evening or two in a week reading with her. And so during the winter, with double the pleasure he had ever known before, they went through the familiar pages of Ariosto, Tasso and Dante. The fifth canto of the Inferno remained, however, her favorite; and with the light of her eyes upon the text Vane made a much better translation than Byron or Cary ever dreamed. She was never tired of hearing the passage beginning "Siede la terra dove nata fui." And much practice in translation makes perfect.