In the gardens was a pool, with flies buzzing thick about its stagnant waters, but an apathetic fountain played there, babbling lazily, trying half-heartedly to create a wholly fictitious atmosphere of coolness and repose. At the edge of this pool, wreathed in a bower of moist, dripping, giant ferns, was situated a bench, and upon this bench Borek and Rosa took their seats, and sighed, and mopped their faces. Borek at once produced some sandwiches bundled together in a handkerchief.
"No, no, no!" said Rosa, pettishly, waving away the sandwiches.
"It is not good to fast," Borek told her, and began to eat. He added, as a special inducement, recollecting that his companion was Italian: "There is much garlic in these sandwiches."
"As you like," said Borek pacifically.
There was a pause.
"Perhaps one bite," said Rosa at length.
Borek grinned. "What a baby!"
Still grinning, he began to feed her, persisting gently, until she had at last swallowed two sandwiches. He then murmured, "fa y est!" and looked at her approvingly. She was pale and heavy-eyed, save for the brightness of her tumbled hair.
"That's better, isn't it?" he wanted to know.
Rosa suddenly began to cry.
Borek, continuing to stare, at once assumed the perplexed expression of one whose excellent motives have been most grossly misconstrued. He shrugged his