When Mr. Meredith and his companion made their quiet entrance into the next room, Mrs. Belassis caught one glimpse of two dark heads bent very closely together over a lovely bunch of roses and heliotrope, which was being transferred from his hands to hers. The blind man was no hindrance to any such small passages as these; but Roma’s cheeks flamed crimson when she saw that her father was not alone, and the ardent look in the young Italian’s eyes was not lost upon Mrs. Belassis. The introduction passed off easily, and the conversation was carried on in French, so as to be intelligible to Mrs. Belassis. ‘What lovely flowers, Miss Meredith!’ said their guest, not altogether without malice. ‘Are they from your garden?’ ‘I had the honour of presenting them to Mademoiselle,’ answered the Italian gravely. ‘They came from the garden of my esteemed friend, M. Debenham.’ ‘Oh, have you been to see Philip again?’ asked Meredith. ‘You go there very often. You must find a great deal to say to one another.’ ‘I have not seen my friend to-day,’ answered the Signor; ‘but I took the liberty of helping myself to his flowers without leave.’ ‘You have courage, Monsieur,’ remarked Mrs. Belassis, with rather a keen look. ‘That is a virtue much esteemed in your country—is it not so, Madame?’ he asked. ‘Or have I taken an unpardonable liberty?’ ‘That is for my nephew to decide, not for me. No doubt you know best how far your friendship warrants such an act.’ ‘Madame is right,’ answered he, meeting her searching gaze with one equally keen and significant. ‘I think I know how far I may go with my friend Filippo.’ She could not be certain of it, but she had an idea that more was meant than met the ear. Her suspicion that this man knew more of Philip’s private history than appeared, was gradually strengthened by what followed. ‘You know my nephew well—is it not so?’ ‘I once knew Philip Debenham well, intimately I might say; but the master of that great house yonder—I cannot say he is a great friend of mine.’ ‘How do you mean, Monsieur?’ The Italian smiled and shrugged, with a gesture far more significant than words. ‘Ah, Madame, we all learn the lesson of life; times change, and friends too—with circumstances such as these, it is often the case.’ ‘Has Philip Debenham changed so much?’ ‘So it appears to me; but I may be mistaken. My memory may be defective.’ ‘I do not think Philip could ever have been so very different from what he is now,’ said Roma. ‘He strikes me as a man who would change singularly little. He is so independent of other people and their opinions.’ ‘Mademoiselle is perfectly right there,’ answered the Italian. ‘He goes his own way, without in any way considering what may be the effect upon others.’