“Quite right,” he hastened to reply, smiling cheerfully. “One lost no illusions in Tuscany. One went there to cherish the few that yet remained. But,” he added, without change of manner, “one begins to believe that even a lost illusion can be very beautiful sometimes⁠—even in Chicago.”

“I want you to dine with us,” said Laura. “You’ve hardly met my husband, and I think you will like some of our pictures. I will have all your old friends there, the Cresslers and Aunt Wess, and all. When can you come?”

“Oh, didn’t you get my note?” he asked. “I wrote you yesterday, asking if I might call tonight. You see, I am only in Chicago for a couple of days. I must go on to St. Louis tomorrow, and shall not be back for a week.”