“No?” He mused a while. “And when would you think of going away again, then; finally? When exactly?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d come back from Venice. And then we’d prepare everything.”

“How prepare?”

“Oh, I’d tell Clifford. I’d have to tell him.”

“Would you!”

He remained silent. She put her arms fast round his neck.

“Don’t make it difficult for me,” she pleaded.

“Make what difficult?”

“For me to go to Venice and arrange things.”

A little smile, half a grin, flickered on his face.