under the Dowager’s scrutiny as those of her English cousins would have been likely to do. They even returned the gaze with one of almost equal curiosity, and finally with liking, for the commanding old face was also kind. Lady Fitz-Smith noted the same quality of unworldliness that had impressed Gino Curatulo when he called upon the two women, for Anne’s dress, though charming in color and texture, was not at all “smart,” and it was evident that she knew little of the subtle coquetry of European women.
The old woman smiled at her suddenly, and patted her hand. “You must tell me what you think of Rome,” she said in a strong, warm voice, and the English that is so much richer, so much more ornate and excitable than our own. “But first I want to know what you think of these rooms.”
Anne looked about her helplessly, and during the girl’s slight confused silence Lady Fitz-Smith nodded her head with approval.
“I quite agree with you,” she said. “Dear Mrs. Wallace! She has so much taste, and it is all bad. Why have they brought you to Rome, my dear? Not to marry a Roman, I hope.”
Anne flushed. “I shall never marry out of my own country,” she answered.
“Good girl!” said the Dowager, patting her22
