Fear seemed to be feeling, and a possible sense of the absurdity of her situation made for a slightly tremulous dignity as she said: "I do love it.

Love it so much it is hard to tell just how much--or why." And then it was as if she shrank back, having uncovered too much.

She looked as though she might be dreaming of the Court of the Uffizi, or Santa Maria Novella, but Katie surmised that that dreamy look was not failing to find out what Wayne was going to do with his lettuce.

But one who suggested dreams of Tuscany when taking observations on the use of the salad fork--was there not hope unbounded for such a one?
Wayne was silent for the moment, as though getting the fact that the love of Italy, or perhaps its associations, was to this girl not a thing to be compressed within the thin vein of dinner talk.

"Well," he laughed understanding, "to be sure I don't know it from the inside.