" "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. That she was provoked by his interference was obvious. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. To disillusion her, forthwith. It has been a marvellous day—and I am going to England.
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