"Now, if
it had been Alice--my sister Alice!"
William nodded. It had been known to them for some time that Lady Alice
Wensleydale, to whom Italy had become a second country, had settled in a
villa near Treviso, where she occupied herself with a lace school for
women and girls.
The mention of her sister threw Kitty into what seemed to be a
disagreeable reverie. The flush brought by the sea-wind faded. Ashe
looked at her with anxiety.
"You have done too much, Kitty--as usual!"
His voice was almost angry.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"What does it matter? You know very well it would be much better for you
if--"
"If what?"
"If I followed Harry." The words were just breathed, and her eyes shrank
from meeting his. Ashe, on the other hand, turned and looked at her
steadily.
"Are you quite determined I sha'n't get
any joy out of my holiday?"
She shook her head uncertainly. Then, almost immediately, she began to
chatter to Margaret French about the sights of the lagoon, with her
natural trenchancy and fun. But her hand, hidden under the folds of her
black cloak, still clung to William's.
"It is her illness," he said to himself, "and the loss of the child.
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