face and neck as he walked behind her between the vegetable beds. Heggen and Miss Palm had made peace.
"The same old round," said Helge; "take your partners."
Jenny nodded, with the shadow of a smile.
The atmosphere at the coffee-table was somewhat strained. Miss Palm alone was in good spirits. Francesca tried to make conversation while they were sipping their liqueurs, and, as soon as she decently could, proposed that they should go for a walk.
The three couples made for the Campagna, the distance between them increasing, until they lost sight of one another altogether among the hills. Jenny walked with Gram.
"Where are we going really?" she said.
"We might go to the Egeria grotto, for instance."
The grotto lay in quite an opposite direction to the one chosen by the others. They started to walk across the scorched slopes to the Bosco Sacro, where the ancient cork trees stretched their dark foliage to the burning sun.
"I ought to have put on my hat," said Jenny, passing a hand over her hair. The ground of the sacred grove was covered with bits of paper and other litter; on the stump of a tree near the edge two ladies were seated, doing crochet work, and some little English boys played hide-and-seek behind the massive trunks. Jenny and Gram turned out of the grove and walked down the slope towards the ruin.
"Is it worth while going down?" said Jenny, and without waiting for an answer, sat down on the slope.
"No; let us stay here," and Helge lay down at her feet on the short, dry grass, took off his hat, and, steadying himself on his elbow, looked up at her in silence.
"How old is she?" he asked suddenly. "I mean Cesca."
"Twenty-six." She sat looking at the view in front of her.
"I am not sorry," he said quietly. "You have noticed it, I
