Peter watched, and admired.

"And I asked whether he was versatile!" he muttered. "Trust an

Italian for economising labour. It looks like unwarrantable

invasion of friendly territory--but it's a dodge worth

remembering, all the same."

He drew the Duchessa's letter from his pocket, and read it

again, and again approached it to his face, communing with that

ghost of a perfume.

"Heavens! how it makes one think of chiffons," he exclaimed.

"Thursday--Thursday--help me to live till Thursday!"




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