With Vocco and Flexinna she dined frequently, three times a month at least and generally oftener. Brinnaria loved children, especially babies, and there was always a baby in the Istorian household--Flexinna’s babies were all healthy and grew famously. Of the six children, Brinnaria could not have told which she loved or which loved her most. Her arrivals were always heralded with shouts of glee, her romps with the children always put her in a good humor, her swim with Flexinna sharpened an appetite which needed no edge, while the cosiness and informality of Flexinna’s dining-room, where each of the three had undivided possession of one entire sofa, made it certain that nothing marred her enjoyment. CHAPTER XIII - PERVERSITY ABOUT three years after her farewell to Almo, on entering Vocco’s house one afternoon, Brinnaria had a presentiment of something wrong. The children were as vociferous and as whimsical as usual, but there was a nameless difference in Flexinna’s expression and bearing. As soon as they were alone in their bath, after she had had one good plunge in the pool, Brinnaria, treading water in the deepest part of the tank, shaking her head like a wet spaniel, demanded: “What is the matter? There’s something wrong. You might as well tell me.” But Flexinna put her off and laughed at her insistence. To Brinnaria the laughter seemed forced and so did the talk at dinner. No sooner was the dinner over and the tray of figs, almonds and pomegranates and other fruit on the table, than she whispered to Flexinna: “Tell the servants to stay out. I want to talk.” Flexinna signed to Vocco and they exchanged glances. “Why did you keep up the farce so long?” Brinnaria sneered. “I saw through it from the first.” “We were afraid,” Vocco apologized, “that what I have to tell you would spoil your appetite.” “It would take something pretty bad to spoil my appetite,” Brinnaria reflected. “Is Almo dead?” “Not so b-b-bad as that,” spoke Flexinna. “Tell me, Quintus,” Brinnaria breathed. Vocco fidgeted. “It’s an amazing story,” he began. “All his story, all my story, all our story,” Brinnaria cut in, “is amazing. Leave out the comments and tell the story.”