Mrs. St. Clare's tacit encouragement, he believed excuse to be no longer necessary. Clouds of purple and crimson, flecked with gold, crowded the west; lighting up Daisy's face, as they stood side by side leaning on the low iron gate, with a hue as rosy as the dream they were living in.
"I should like to see the sunsets of Italy," observed Margaret. "It is said they are very beautiful."
"So should I," promptly replied Frank. "Perhaps some time we may see them together."
Her face took a brighter tint, though there was nothing in the sky to induce it. He passed his hand along the gate, until it rested on hers.
"Mamma talks of going abroad this summer," whispered Daisy. "I do not know whether it will be to Italy."
"I hope she will not take you with her!"
"It is Lydia's fault. She says this place tires her. And