"Where's the fire?" Riccardo demanded, looking around to see what had agitated Justine.

"Dulcie!" Justine cried. "Look at her! Oh, how can that happen and me not be there?"

Turning to look behind him, Riccardo saw Dulcie standing by the canal in her wedding dress. A sudden breeze had arisen, whisking the long veil high, so that it seemed to stream up to the sky, making a perfect gauze halo about her. Dulcie's face was raised and she was laughing with delight. It would have made a glorious picture. And Justine was missing it.

"Can't you take it from here?" Riccardo asked.

"I am," she said, snapping away madly, "but it won't be the same. I need to get close, but how can I while we're stuck here?"

"Like this," Riccardo said, placing his hands on her waist and hoisting her up.

She had a brief sensation of flying, as though she were no more than a bag of feathers he was tossing. Then she landed and scrambled to her feet, almost in one movement.

"Thank you," she gasped, beginning to run.

"Good luck!" he called, but she was already beyond hearing.

Riccardo watched her, wryly aware that she had completely forgotten him. Only a moment ago the air had seemed to sing with the intensity of something that was starting between them. He had asked her to spend time with him. She had hesitated, but his well-honed instincts told him she was about to fall into his net.

But she had escaped at the last minute through one of those twists of fate that even the best fishers of women could not anticipate.

And she hadn't even glanced back for a last look at him. Faced with a good picture opportunity, she'd wiped him from her existence.