Nothing of interest happened when the ladies had left the table. The Signor talked easily and pleasantly of persons and places that both had known, but made no allusion to what had passed between them a few days previously. Tor followed his lead, and was only too glad to be left in peace. Torwood’s name was never mentioned between them, and both seemed quite ready to join the ladies, as soon as a decent interval had elapsed. The Italian was willing enough to take refuge with Miss Marjory as soon as the drawing-room had been reached. Tor could not help fancying that he felt some relief at the presence of strangers, as though he did not feel disposed to show fight that day, and yet had no inclination to become too friendly. Miss Marjory never knew what it was to want words. English or Italian, it was all the same to her. She was wont to say of herself that if she were to be cast away upon a savage island, she should learn the language in a few days, so impossible would it be for her to remain silent. The Signor seemed pleased by her conversation. Maud had taken Ethel out into the garden. Tor was talking to Mrs. Lorraine at the other end of the great room. There was nobody to hear what passed between these two, and Miss Marjory could be charmingly innocent when she chose. ‘Have you ever been in England before, Signor?’ There was the least possible hesitation before the answer came. ‘As a child, Madame, I was here; but I have little recollection of it.’ ‘Was it this part of the world that you visited then?’ He smiled and shook his head. ‘That I cannot say. I cannot remember well enough.’ ‘You have seen London, of course?’ ‘I spent one night there on my way here. That is all my acquaintance with it.’ ‘You were in a desperate hurry to reach these remote parts,’ remarked Miss Marjory, laughing. ‘Most men would not have hastened away quite so fast from the gaieties of a London season.’ ‘I—I had an introduction to Mr. Meredith,’ answered the stranger with a very slight embarrassment of manner, which did not escape Miss Marjory. ‘Well, I imagine the introduction would have kept,’ she answered lightly. ‘I suppose the fact of the case is, that you had paid Homburg or Baden, or Paris perhaps, a long visit first, and had seen enough of the delights of life to satiate you for a time. Or perhaps,’ she added slily, ‘you were afraid that your reputation would reach this place before you, and scare simple country people, who do not understand gay doings.’ The young man looked relieved at having his way made so plain for him. He bowed and smiled, and remarked with edifying admiration that the Signora was quite too clever—her eyes saw through everything, like the sun at noonday.