dance. At least I expect it's the same stool," he added. "There was the figure of a gnome that a strange old fellow I once knew carved upon it."
She sprang to the ground and examined it.
"Yes," she said. "It is the same. He must have been quite clever."
She reseated herself upon it. Her feet just touched the ground.
"I was born in Brazil," she said. "Father had a ranch near Rio. But we left there before I was three. The first thing I can really remember is The Abbey. We must have come on a visit, I suppose, to Sir William. It was the long garden between the cloister walls that was my first nursery. I used to play there with the flowers and make them talk to me."
"I saw you there," he said, "one afternoon."
She looked up at him. "When was that?" she asked.
"Oh, one evening in September," he said. "About two years ago." He had spoken without premeditation and now felt himself flushing. He hoped she might think it only the glow from the furnace fire.
"But we were in Florence," she said.
"I know," he answered, flushing still deeper.
