She
was comfortably glad to be younger and far, far more attractive than
Miss Bland. She was resolving that, before the two guests arrived, she
would put on a particularly becoming dress in order that the heroine of
the old flirtation might more keenly than ever envy Angelo's wife. This
idea she did not clothe definitely in words, but it floated in her mind.
"Miss Bland must have come down from the Annonciata, to lurk about
Mentone waiting for my answer," she said aloud, having reread the note.
"Otherwise she wouldn't have time to arrive here for lunch at one, after
her messenger got back."
It was now Mary's turn to be inattentive, for she was adding a
postscript to her letter, which but for that addition she had finished.
"Marie dreamed of pigeons last night," she scribbled hastily. "She is
superstitious about them, and says they mean trouble and parting. That
seems rather funny to me, after the hundreds I saw in Monte Carlo and
made friends with, and fed every day. I'm glad I am not superstitious,
especially now that you and I are separated. How glorious it is to feel
quite sure that _our_ parting is only for a few days, instead of
forever, like that of our poor lovers of 'Remember eternal.' It was dear
of you to have those words engraved inside the ring you gave me. I love
the quaint English. And it is like a secret which belongs only to us out
of all the world."
"Well!" exclaimed the Princess, after she had tried in vain to attract
Mary's notice, "as you're so delightfully occupied, I may as well remove
myself and leave you in peace.
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