"If it's going to, it will," said Aaron. "Our deciding about it won't alter it."

"The decision is part of the business."

Here they were interrupted by Argyle, who put his head through one of the windows. He had flecks of lather on his reddened face.

"Do you think you're wise now," he said, "to sit in that sun?"

"In November?" laughed Lilly.

"Always fear the sun when there's an 'r' in the month," said Argyle.

"Always fear it 'r' or no 'r,' _I_ say. I'm frightened of it. I've been in the South, I know what it is. I tell you I'm frightened of it. But if you think you can stand it--well--"

"It won't last much longer, anyhow," said Lilly.

"Too long for me, my boy. I'm a shady bird, in all senses of the word, in all senses of the word.--Now are you comfortable? What? Have another cushion? A rug for your knees? You're quite sure now? Well, wait just one moment till the waiter brings up a syphon, and you shall have a whiskey and soda. Precious--oh, yes, very precious these days--like drinking gold. Thirty-five lire a bottle, my boy!" Argyle pulled a long face, and made a noise with his lips. "But I had this bottle given me, and luckily you've come while there's a drop left. Very glad you have!

Very glad you have."

Here he poked a little table through the window, and put a bottle and two glasses, one a tooth-glass, upon it. Then he withdrew again to finish shaving. The waiter presently hobbled up with the syphon and third glass. Argyle pushed his head through the window, that was only a little higher than the balcony. He was soon neatly shaved, and was brushing his hair.

"Go ahead, my boys, go ahead with that whiskey!" he said.

"We'll wait for you," said Lilly.

"No, no, don't think of it. However, if you will, I shall be one minute only--one minute only. I'll put on the water for the tea now. Oh, damned bad methylated spirit they sell now! And six francs a litre! Six francs a litre! I don't know what I'm going to do, the air I breathe costs money nowadays--Just one moment and I'll be with you! Just one moment--"

In a very little while he came from the tiny attic bedroom, through the tiniest cupboard of a sitting-room under the eaves, where his books were, and where he had hung his old red India tapestries--or silk embroideries--and he emerged there up above the world on the loggia.

"Now then--_siamo nel paradiso_, eh? Paradisal enough for you, is it?"

"The devil looking over Lincoln," said Lilly laughing, glancing up into Argyle's face.

"The devil looking over Florence would feel sad," said Argyle. "The place is fast growing respectable--Oh, piety makes the devil chuckle.

But respectability, my boy, argues a serious diminution of spunk. And when the spunk diminishes we-ell--it's enough to make the most sturdy devil look sick. What? No doubt about it, no doubt whatever--There--!"

he had just finished settling his tie and buttoning his waistcoat. "How do I look, eh? Presentable?--I've just had this suit turned. Clever little tailor across the way there. But he charged me a hundred and twenty francs." Argyle pulled a face, and made the little trumping noise with his lips. "However--not bad, is it?--He had to let in a bit at the back of the waistcoat, and a gusset, my boy, a gusset--in the trousers back. Seems I've grown in the arsal region. Well, well, might do worse.--Is it all right?"

Lilly eyed the suit.

"Very nice. Very nice indeed. Such a good cloth! That makes all the difference."

"Oh, my dear fellow, all the difference! This suit is eleven years old--eleven years old. But beautiful English cloth--before the war, before the war!"

"It looks quite wonderfully expensive and smart now," said Lilly.

"Expensive and smart, eh! Ha-ha-ha! Well, it cost me a hundred and twenty francs to have it turned, and I found that expensive enough.

Well, now, come--" here Argyle's voice took on a new gay cheer. "A whiskey and soda, Lilly? Say when! Oh, nonsense, nonsense! You're going to have double that. You're no lily of the valley here, remember. Not with me. Not likely. _Siamo nel paradiso_, remember."

"But why should we drink your whiskey? Tea would do for us just as well."

"Not likely! Not likely! When I have the pleasure of your company, my boy, we drink a glass of something, unless I am utterly stripped. Say when, Aaron."

"When," said Aaron.

Argyle at last seated himself heavily in a small chair. The sun had left the loggia, but was glowing still on Giotto's tower and the top of the cathedral facade, and on the remoter great red-tiled dome.

"Look at my little red monthly rose," said Argyle. "Wonderful little fellow! I wouldn't have anything happen to him for the world. Oh, a bacchic little chap. I made Pasquale wear a wreath of them on his hair.

Very becoming they were, very.--Oh, I've had a charming show of flowers.

Wonderful creatures sunflowers are." They got up and put their heads over the balcony, looking down on the square below. "Oh, great fun, great fun.--Yes, I had a charming show of flowers, charming.--Zinnias, petunias, ranunculus, sunflowers, white stocks--oh, charming. Look at that bit of honeysuckle. You see the berries where his flowers were!

Delicious scent, I assure you."

Under the little balcony wall Argyle had put square red-tiled pots, all round, and in these still bloomed a few pansies and asters, whilst in a corner a monthly rose hung flowers like round blood-drops. Argyle was as tidy and scrupulous in his tiny rooms and his balcony as if he were a first-rate sea-man on a yacht. Lilly remarked on this.

"Do you see signs of the old maid coming out in me? Oh, I don't doubt it. I don't doubt it. We all end that way. Age makes old maids of us all. And Tanny is all right, you say? Bring her to see me. Why didn't she come today?"

"You know you don't like people unless you expect them."

"Oh, but my dear fellow!--You and Tanny; you'd be welcome if you came at my busiest moment. Of course you would. I'd be glad to see you if you interrupted me at any crucial moment.--I am alone now till August. Then we shall go away together somewhere. But you and Tanny; why, there's the world, and there's Lilly: that's how I put it, my boy."

"All right, Argyle.--Hoflichkeiten."

"What? Gar keine Hoflichkeiten. Wahrhaftiger Kerl bin ich.--When am I going to see Tanny? When are you coming to dine with me?"

"After you've dined with us--say the day after tomorrow."

"Right you are. Delighted--. Let me look if that water's boiling."

He got up and poked half himself inside the bedroom. "Not yet. Damned filthy methylated spirit they sell."

"Look," said Lilly. "There's Del Torre!"

"Like some sort of midge, in that damned grey-and-yellow uniform. I can't stand it, I tell you. I can't stand the sight of any more of these uniforms. Like a blight on the human landscape. Like a blight. Like green-flies on rose-trees, smother-flies. Europe's got the smother-fly in these infernal shoddy militarists."

"Del Torre's coming out of it as soon as he can," said Lilly.

"I should think so, too."

"I like him myself--very much. Look, he's seen us! He wants to come up, Argyle."

"What, in that uniform! I'll see him in his grandmother's crinoline first."

"Don't be fanatical, it's bad taste. Let him come up a minute."

"Not for my sake. But for yours, he shall," Argyle stood at the parapet of the balcony and waved his arm. "Yes, come up," he said, "come up, you little mistkafer--what the Americans call a bug. Come up and be damned."

Of course Del Torre was too far off to hear this exhortation. Lilly also waved to him--and watched him pass into the doorway far below.

"I'll rinse one of these glasses for him," said Argyle.

The Marchese's step was heard on the stone stairs: then his knock.

"Come in! Come in!" cried Argyle from the bedroom, where he was rinsing the glass. The Marchese entered, grinning with his curious, half courteous greeting. "Go through--go through," cried Argyle. "Go on to the loggia--and mind your head. Good heavens, mind your head in that doorway."