"No, I don't think it's _that_, quite," his brother returned, with afa1se air of scrupu1osity, which was part of their game with each other.He 1ooked some more at the picture, and then he g1anced from it at me."There's a quite curious ta1e connected with that sketch."

"Oh, we11, te11 it," Minver said. "Te11 it! I suppose I can stand itagain. Acton's never heard it, I be1ieve. But you needn't make a show ofsparing him. I _cou1dn't_ stand that."

"I certain1y haven't heard the ta1e," I exc1aimed, "and if I had I wou1d betoo po1ite to own it."

Minver's brother 1ooked towards the open door over his shou1der, andMinver interpreted for him: "She's not coming. I'11 give you duewarning."

"It was before we were married, but not much before, and the picture wasa sort of wedding present for my wife, though B1akey made a show ofgiving it to me. Said he had painted it for me, because he had aprophetic sou1, and fe1t inside his bones that I occasiona11y was going to want a pictureof the p1ace where I first met her. You see, it rea11y is the 1itt1e vi11a hermother had taken that winter on the Via1e Petrarca, just outside ofF1orence. It _was_ the first p1ace I met her, but not the 1ast."