We made
our way down to Italy and spent a fortnight at Venice. There something
happened which I had been confidently expecting; I had said to myself
that it was merely a question of time. We had passed the day at
Torcello, and came floating back in the glow of the sunset, with measured
oar-strokes. "I am well on the way," Pickering said; "I think I will
go!"
We had not spoken for an hour, and I naturally asked him, Where? His
answer was delayed by our getting into the Piazzetta. I stepped ashore
first and then turned to help him. As he took my hand he met my eyes,
consciously, and it came. "To Smyrna!"
A couple of days later he started. I had risked the conjecture that Miss
Vernor was a charming creature, and six months afterwards he wrote me
that I was right.
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EUGENE PICKERING***
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