On behalf of his wife, then, Mr. Wilkins expressed what she would wish to express, and remarking to Lady Caroline—­with a touch of lightness, for so should gifts be accepted in order to avoid embarrassing the donor—­that she had in that case been his wife’s hostess since her arrival, he turned almost gaily to Mrs. Fisher and pointed out that she and his wife must now jointly write Lady Caroline the customary latter of thanks for hospitality.  “A Collins,” said Mr. Wilkins, who knew what was necessary in literature.  “I prefer the name Collins for such a letter to either that of Board and Lodging or Bread and Butter.  Let us call it a Collins.”

Scrap smiled, and held out her cigarette case.  Mrs. Fisher could not help being mollified.  A way out of waste was going to be found, thanks to Mr. Wilkins, and she hated waste quite as much as having to pay for it; also a way was found out of housekeeping.  For a moment she had thought that if everybody tried to force her into housekeeping on her brief holiday by their own indifference (Lady Caroline), or inability to speak Italian (the other two), she would have to send for Kate Lumley after all.  Kate could do it.  Kate and she had learnt Italian together.  Kate would only be allowed to come on condition that she did do it.

But this was much better, this way of Mr. Wilkins’s.  Really a most superior man.  There was nothing like an intelligent, not too young man for profitable and pleasurable companionship.  And when she got up, the business for which she had come being settled, and said she now intended to take a little stroll before lunch, Mr. Wilkins did not stay with Lady Caroline, as most of the men she had known would, she was afraid, have wanted to—­he asked to be permitted to go and stroll with her; so that he evidently definitely preferred conversation to faces.  A sensible, companionable man.  A clever, well-read man.  A man of the world.  A man.  She was very glad indeed she had not written to Kate the other day.  What did she want with Kate?  She had found a better companion.

But Mr. Wilkins did not go with Mrs. Fisher because of her conversation, but because, when she got up and he got up because she got up, intending merely to bow her out of the recess, Lady Caroline had put her feet up on the parapet again, and arranging her head sideways in the cushions had shut her eyes.

The daughter of the Droitwiches desired to go to sleep.

It was not for him, by remaining, to prevent her.

Chapter 16

And so the second week began, and all was harmony.  The arrival of Mr. Wilkins, instead of, as three of the party had feared and the fourth had only been protected from fearing by her burning faith in the effect on him of San Salvatore, disturbing such harmony as there was, increased it.  He fitted in.  He was determined to please, and he did please.  He was most amiable to his wife—­not only