The mention of the Consulate brought back to his memory all that Hutchinson had said. Her words seemed to imply that she did not wish to leave Tuscany. "Why in Italy?" he inquired. "You have no tie here!" She hesitated for a moment. "No, none whatever," she assured him in a voice which sounded strangely harsh and unconvincing. He attributed her agitation to the excitement of the moment and the fervency of her love. "Then why do you wish to remain?" he inquired bluntly. "I have reasons," she replied mechanically, her eyes slowly wandering around the room. Suddenly she rose, and hastily snatching up an open letter that was lying upon the mantelshelf, crushed it within the palm of her gloved hand. He was sitting with his back to the mantel, therefore he saw nothing of this strange action, and believed, when she went out of the room a moment later, that she went to speak with her servant. True, she spoke some words with Margherita in the kitchen, but placing the letter upon the burning charcoal, she watched the flame slowly consume it. Then, with a parting order to Margherita uttered in a tone distinctly audible to her lover, she returned smilingly to his side. "For what reason do you want to remain here?" he inquired when she had reseated herself with a word of apology for her absence. "It is only natural that I should be loth to leave my own country," she answered evasively, laughing. "No further motive?" he asked, a trifle incredulously. "Well, I have many acquaintances in Florence, in Milan, and Rome." "And you desire to remain in Italy on their account?" he exclaimed. "Only the other day you expressed satisfaction at the suggestion of leaving Italy." "I have since changed my mind." "And you intend to remain?" "Not if you are compelled to leave Livorno, Nino," she answered with that sweet smile which always entranced him. In her attitude he detected mystery. She appeared striving to hide from him some important fact, and he suddenly determined to discover what was its nature. Why, he wondered, should she desire to remain in Tuscany after the satisfaction she had already expressed at the prospect of life in England? "I am compelled to go to-night," he said. "The train leaves at half-past nine, and we shall take the through wagon-lit from Pisa to Paris at midnight. If you'll be ready, I'll wire to Rome to secure our berths in the car." "Then you really mean to leave?" she asked in a tone of despair. "Certainly," he replied, puzzled at her strange manner. "It will perhaps be better for me to remain," she observed with a deep sigh. "Why?" "If we marry, you would tire of me very, very soon. Besides, you really know so little of me;" and she regarded him gravely with her great, clear, wide-open eyes. "Ah, that's just it!" he cried. "You have told me nothing." She shrugged her shoulders with a careless air, and smiled. "You have never inquired," she answered. "Then I ask you now," he said.