"You will come Monday, then, to see them, won't you?--as you cannot come to-morrow," she said, smiling happily. When she smiled (and she did not smile often), showing her little white, child-like teeth, she looked very young. He was fairly caught, and answered, "Yes." But he immediately qualified it with a "That is, if it is possible." "Oh, _make_ it possible," she answered, still smiling and going with him herself to the outer door instead of summoning the maid. The last he saw of her she was standing in the open doorway, her face bright and contented, watching him as he went down. He did not go to see her pictures on the following Monday; he sent a note of excuse. Some days later he met her. "Ah, you are taking one of the delightful walks?" he said. "I envy you your first impressions of Rome." "I am not taking a walk--that is, for pleasure," she answered. "I am trying to find some vegetables that mother can eat; the vegetables here are so foreign! You don't know how disappointed I was, Mr. Noel, when I got your note. It was such a setback! Why couldn't you come right home with me now--that is, after I have got the vegetables--and see the pictures? It wouldn't take you fifteen minutes." It was only nine o'clock, and a beautiful morning. He thought her such a novelty, with her urgent invitations, her earnest eyes, and her basket on her arm, that he felt the impulse to walk beside her a while through the old streets of Rome; he was very fond of the old streets, and was curious to see whether she would notice the colors and outlines that made their picturesqueness. She noticed nothing but the vegetable-stalls, and talked of nothing but her pictures. He still went on with her, however, amused by the questions she put to the vegetable-dealers (questions compiled from the phrase-books), and the calm contempt with which she surveyed the Roman artichokes they offered. At last she secured some beans, but of sadly Italian aspect, and Noel took the basket. He was much entertained by the prospect of carrying it home. He remarked to himself that of all the various things he had done in Rome this was the freshest. They reached the street of the Hyacinth and walked down its dark centre. "I see you have the sun," he said, looking up. "Yes; that is the reason we took the top floor. We will go right up. Everything is ready." He excused himself. "Some other time." They had entered the dusky hallway. She looked at him without replying; then held out her hand for the basket. He gave it to her. "I suppose you have seen Mr. Jackson?" he said, before taking leave. She nodded, but did not speak. Then he saw two tears rise in her eyes. "My dear young lady, you have been doing too much! You are tired. Don't you know that that is very dangerous in Rome?"