"Well, the Colonel has found me out; but from the tone of his
remarks I think I may hope for his approval. At any rate, I'm sure
he won't move a vote of censure."
"If he does, we'll pack him off to town, and sentence him to dine
at his club every day for a month," said Lady Considine.
"What crime has this particular club committed?" said Mrs.
Sinclair in a whisper.
"Vote of censure! Certainly not," said the Colonel, with an angry
ring in his voice. Mrs. Sinclair did not love him, and had
calculated accurately the carrying power of her whisper. "That
would be the basest ingratitude. I must, however, plead guilty to
an attack of curiosity, and therefore I beg you, Marchesa, to let
us into the secret of your latest inspiration."
"Its origin was commonplace enough," said the Marchesa, "but in a
way interesting. Once upon a time--more years ago than I care to
remember--I was strolling about the Piazza Navona in Rome, and
amusing myself by going from one barrow to another, and turning
over the heaps of rubbish with which they were stocked.
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