THE WINDOWstrolling along with William Bankes? She focussedher short-sighted eyes upon the backs of a retreat-ing couple. Yes, indeed it was. Did that not meanthat they would marry? Yes, it must! What an ad-mirable idea! They must marry!XIII

He had been to Amsterdam, Mr. Bankes was say-ing as he strolled across the lawn with Lily Briscoe.He had seen the Rembrandts. He had been toMadrid. Unfortunately, it was Good Friday andthe Prado was shut. He had been to Rome. HadMiss Briscoe never been to Rome? Oh, sheshould—— It would be a wonderful experience forher—the Sistine Chapel; Michael Angelo; andPadua, with its Giottos. His wife had been in badhealth for many years, so that their sight-seeinghad been on a modest scale.

She had been to Brussels; she had been to Paris,but only for a flying visit to see an aunt who wasill. She had been to Dresden; there were massesof pictures she had not seen; however, Lily Briscoereflected, perhaps it was better not to see pictures:they only made one hopelessly discontented withone’s own work. Mr. Bankes thought one couldcarry that point of view too far. We can’t all be109

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