She attracted me on account of her bright vivacity, quick wit and keen sense of humor, therefore I sat listening to her pleasant chatter.  Exiled as I was in a foreign land, I seldom spoke English save with Hutcheson, the Consul, and even then we generally spoke Italian if there were others present, in order that our companions should understand.  Therefore her gossip interested me, and as the golden sunset flooded the handsome old room I sat listening to her, inwardly admiring her innate grace and handsome countenance.

I had no idea who or what her father was—­whether a wealthy manufacturer, like so many who take expensive shoots and give big entertainments in order to edge their way into Society by its back door, or whether he was a gentleman of means and of good family.  I rather guessed the latter, from his gentlemanly bearing and polished manner.  His appearance, tall and erect, was that of a retired officer, and his clean-cut face was one of marked distinction.

I was telling my pretty companion something of my own life, how, because I loved Italy so well, I lived in Tuscany in preference to living in England, and how each year I came home for a month or two to visit my relations and to keep in touch with things.

Suddenly she said—­

“I was once in Leghorn for a few hours.  We were yachting in the Mediterranean.  I love the sea—­and yachting is such awfully good fun, if you only get decent weather.”

The mention of yachting brought back to my mind the visit of the Lola and its mysterious sequel.

“Your father has a yacht, then?” I remarked, with as little concern as I could.

“Yes.  The Iris.  My uncle is cruising on her up the Norwegian Fiords.  For us it is a change to be here, because we are so often afloat.  We went across to New York in her last year and had a most delightful time—­except for one bad squall which made us all a little bit nervous.  But Moyes is such an excellent captain that I never fear.  The crew are all North Sea fishermen—­father will engage nobody else.  I don’t blame him.”

“So you must have made many long voyages, and seen many odd corners of the world, Miss Leithcourt?” I remarked, my interest in her increasing, for she seemed so extremely intelligent and well-informed.

“Oh, yes.  We’ve been to Mexico, and to Panama, besides Morocco, Egypt, and the West Coast of Africa.”

“And you’ve actually landed at Leghorn!” I remarked.

“Yes, but we didn’t stay there more than an hour—­to send a telegram, I think it was.  Father said there was nothing to see there.  He and I went ashore, and I must say I was rather disappointed.”

“You are quite right.  The town itself is ugly and uninteresting.  But the outskirts—­San Jacopo, Ardenza and Antigniano are all delightful.  It was unfortunate that you did not see them.  Was it long ago when you put in there?”

“Not very long.  I really don’t recollect the exact date,” was her reply.  “We were on our way home from Alexandria.”