Not at all crestfallen, the Marchese gazed merrily into her stormy eyes. "How we hate to be tied up!" he laughed. "And how we loathe the idea of being respectable and dowagerly. The bambini, of course, I couldn't answer for, but as to the mustache, there is always Zip!" "Wretch!" she laughed. The firelight played upon her pale features, as she returned his gaze. A tea-gown of claret-colored velvet clung to her relaxed body in suave folds, emphasizing the gardenia pallor of throat and arms, the russet splendor of her hair. He gave vent to his adoration. "If you were not so slim, you'd make a gorgeous Titian as you lie there, Anne. There's something Sixteenth Century and magnificent about you. A Bianca Cappello smiling over the rim of a poisoned goblet. There's nothing modern about you, except your mode of life, which is as lurid and reposeful as a cubist daub. Let's see, what was to-day's hectic program?" Anne laughed and reached for a crumpet. "Dressmaker's this morning and hats. Lunch with Gerald and a matinée. Inquisitorial tea at present. Later, dinner at the Ritz with you and Ellen and that new Hindoo of hers, the theater again and the new dance club. That's all. A nice little merry-go-round, warranted to keep on whirling forever, to the same tenpenny tune. With no disconcerting progress whatsoever. What more can you ask of life?" she added with a cynical little laugh. His compassionate eyes embarrassed her, but she shrugged disdainfully. "I admit I would have liked to do nothing to-night but sit before the fire and read one of my memoirs. But what can I do? The tickets were bought, the party arranged, so I suppose I must sip the bitter dregs of anti-climax philosophically." "And so unfortunately must I," he sighed resignedly. "But the dance club, to watch you being ogled by an amorous Hindoo! I shudder. Anne, Anne, when will you put an end to my misery? Leave this, what do you call it, half-baked existence. Come with me to Florence, to Sicily. Let us lead a fuller life. A life of travel and repose, with a horizon wide enough for study and meditation, and an occasional oasis, if you desire, of theaters and dance clubs. Let our friends be those who dare to think and to do, who have learned to appreciate the exquisiteness of leisure, and not to fritter it away. You Americans treat an idle hour as if it were a horrible void that might engulf you if you didn't diligently fill it in with little nothings." Much amused, Anne lit a cigarette. "A proposal and a sermon in one breath! Really, Vittorio, you are certainly an original. You come all the way from Italy to drag me back to your prehistoric caves and then preach to me in a thoroughly mediæval and unprehistoric manner. You spoil your own effects. I had almost made up my mind to return to Florence before Christmas--but now!" She rolled her eyes and gestured comically.