They started as guiltily as if they had been flirting. Their interview had taken such an unexpected course. Anger, cynicism, stubborn morality--all had ended in a feeling of good-will towards each other and towards the city which had received them. And now Harriet was here--acrid, indissoluble, large; the same in Italy as in England--changing her disposition never, and her atmosphere under protest. Yet even Harriet was human, and the better for a little tea. She did not scold Philip for finding Gino out, as she might reasonably have done. She showered civilities on Miss Abbott, exclaiming again and again that Caroline’s visit was one of the most fortunate coincidences in the world. Caroline did not contradict her. “You see him tomorrow at ten, Philip. Well, don’t forget the blank cheque. Say an hour for the business. No, Italians are so slow; say two. Twelve o’clock. Lunch. Well--then it’s no good going till the evening train. I can manage the baby as far as Florence--” “My dear sister, you can’t run on like that. You don’t buy a pair of gloves in two hours, much less a baby.” “Three hours, then, or four; or make him learn English ways. At Florence we get a nurse--” “But, Harriet,” said Miss Abbott, “what if at first he was to refuse?” “I don’t know the meaning of the word,” said Harriet impressively. “I’ve told the landlady that Philip and I only want our rooms one night, and we shall keep to it.” “I dare say it will be all right. But, as I told you, I thought the man I met on the Rocca a strange, difficult man.” “He’s insolent to ladies, we know. But my brother can be trusted to bring him to his senses. That woman, Philip, whom you saw will carry the baby to the hotel. Of course you must tip her for it. And try, if you can, to get poor Lilia’s silver bangles. They were nice quiet things, and will do for Irma. And there is an inlaid box I lent her--lent, not gave--to keep her handkerchiefs in. It’s of no real value; but this is our only chance. Don’t ask for it; but if you see it lying about, just say--” “No, Harriet; I’ll try for the baby, but for nothing else. I promise to do that tomorrow, and to do it in the way you wish. But tonight, as we’re all tired, we want a change of topic. We want relaxation. We want to go to the theatre.” “Theatres here? And at such a moment?” “We should hardly enjoy it, with the great interview impending,” said Miss Abbott, with an anxious glance at Philip. He did not betray her, but said, “Don’t you think it’s better than sitting in all the evening and getting nervous?” His sister shook her head. “Mother wouldn’t like it. It would be most unsuitable--almost irreverent. Besides all that, foreign theatres are notorious. Don’t you remember those letters in the ‘Church Family Newspaper’?” “But this is an opera--‘Lucia di Lammermoor’--Sir Walter Scott--classical, you know.”