'Cotton-wool would be better,' she said anxiously. 'How have you put your
two away?'

Directly the words were out of her mouth she felt that they had been better
unspoken.

A deep flush stained Eleanor's thin face.

'I am afraid I haven't taken much care of them,' she said hurriedly.

They were both silent for a little. But while Lucy still had her lap full
of her treasures, Eleanor again stood up.

'I will go in and rest for an hour before _dejeuner_. I _think_ I might go
to sleep.'

She had passed a very broken night, and Lucy looked at her with tender
concern. She quickly but carefully laid aside her terra-cottas, that she
might go in with Eleanor and 'settle her' comfortably.

But when she was left to rest in her carefully darkened room, and Lucy had
gone back to the _loggia_, Eleanor got no wink of sleep. She lay in an
anguish of memory, living over again that last night at the villa--thinking
of Manisty in the dark garden and her own ungovernable impulse.

Presently a slight sound reached her from the _loggia_. She turned her head
quickly. A sob?--from Lucy?

Her heart stood still. Noiselessly she slipped to her feet. The door
between her and the _loggia_ had been left ajar for air. It was partially