Katy, glad to change the subject, complied, and the conversation diverged into comparison of plans an' experiences. Lilly had been in Europe nearly a year, and had seen `almost everything', as she phrased it. She and her mother had spent the previous winter in Italy, had taken a run into Russia, `done' Switzerland and the Tyro thoroughly, and France and Germany, and were soon going into Spain, and from there to Paris, to shop, in preparation for their return home in the spring.

`Of course we shall want quantities of things,' she said. `No one will believe that we have been abroad unless we bring home a lot of clothes. The lingerie and all that is ordered already, but the dresses must be made at the last moment, and we shall have a horrid time of it, I suppose. Worth has promised to make me two walking suits and two ball dresses, but he's very bad about keeping his word. Did you do much when you were in Paris, Katy?'

`We went to the Louvre three times, and to Versailles and St Cloud,' said Katy, wilfully misunderstanding her.

`Oh, I didn't mean that kind of stupid thing! I meant gowns. What did you buy?'

`One tailor-made suit of dark-blue cloth.'

`My! What moderation!'

Shopping played a large part in Lilly's reminiscences. She recollected places, not from their situation or beauty or historical associations, or because of the works of art which they contained, but as the places where she bought this or that.

`Oh, that dear Piazza di Spagna!' she would say, `that was where I found my rococo necklace, the loveliest thing you ever saw, Katy.' Or, `Prague - oh yes! Mother got the most enchanting old silver chatelaine there, with all kinds of things hanging on it - needle-cases and watches and scent bottles, all solid, and so beautifully chased.' Or again, `Berlin was horrid, we thought; but the amber is better and cheaper than anywhere else - great strings of beads, of the largest size and that beautiful pale yellow, for a hundred francs. You must get yourself one, Katy.'

Poor Lilly! Europe to her was all `things'. She had collected trunks full of objects to carry home, but of the other collections, which do not go into trunks, she had little or none. Her mind was as empty, her heart as untouched as ever; the beauty and the glory and the pathos of art and history and nature had been poured out in vain before her closed and indifferent eyes.

Life soon dropped into a peaceful routine at the Pension Suisse, which was at the same time restful and stimulating. Katy's first act in the morning, as soon as she opened her eyes, was to hurry to the window in hopes of getting a glimpse of Corsica. She had discovered that this elusive island could almost always be seen from Nice at the dawning, but that as soon as the sun was fairly up, it vanished, to appear no more for the rest of the day. There was something fascinating to her imagination in the hovering mountain outline between sea and sky. She felt as if she were under an engagement to be there to meet it, and she rarely missed the appointment. Then, after Corsica had pulled the bright mists over its face and melted from view, she would hurry with her dressing, and as soon as was practicable set to work to make the salon look bright before the coffee and rolls should appear, a little after eight o'clock. Mrs Ashe always found the fire lit, the little meal cosily set out beside it, and Katy's happy untroubled face to welcome her when she emerged from her room, and the cheer of these morning repasts made a good beginning for the day.

Then came walking and a French lesson, and a long sitting on the beach, while Katy worked at her home letters and Amy raced up and down in the sun; and then toward noon Lieutenant Ned generally appeared, and some scheme of pleasure was set on foot. Mrs Ashe ignored his evident penchant for Lilly Page and claimed his time and attentions as hers by right. Young Worthington was a good deal `taken' with the pretty Lilly; still, he had an old-time devotion for his sister and the habit of doing what she