New Britain herald., 1929-08-08

embassy.
 Molly was rather thrilled. The duko wore beautiful blue uni. form, with a lot of gold braid and a dashing hat. He had a per feet Roman nose. and searching passionate eyes. His English was delightful, and he danced and made love like a man who has nothing else to do.
 | But one night, after they had danced at the ambassadors, the ! duke, whose first name was Lo- renzo, suggested they see the Col. | osseum in the moonlight. Anl there, under the moon that shone on ancient Rome, Lorenzo sought | 10 take Molly in his arms.
 | All things considered, Molly de- cided to go to Venice. Everybody 1 told. her to be sure to arrive by moonlight And the duke, declaring i that Venice could not be Venice without romance, offered to go him. self, as her guide. But Molly de- clined. And. leaving forwarding address for Jacks belated mail. set out alone for the sea -girt city of l her dreams.
 Ii was like another fairy tale, the way she stepped into gon- dola at the station. and the way her gondoler began 10 sing. By the time she reached her hotel. he , had sung Santa Lucia and Sol: Mic, from beginning to end. Then he padded his boat into the lobby of the hotel.
 It was gorgeous hotel. Once it had been a palace. and about it clung the remnants of it's an. cient glory. Right away Moll, knew that Venice was going tc measure up to all dreams. And neXt morning, when she brcakfasted ir an open dinMng room that floatet over the canal. she determined tc return on her honeymoon.
 A week later she went on tc Florence. Surely there would bt a letter now from Jack. If there wasn't, she had better cable afte, all. There was no telling what might have happened.
 Everyone had written but Jack Red and Rita, and poor Zip And MT. Durbin, to say that they were still packing them in. Even he. mother. And her father, poor dear had enclosed a check. asking hel to buy a Surprise for mother"
 Surely, if Jack had written, she would have received it. for nont of her other letters had eonr astray. He might, of course, he sick. They had no mutual friend in New York. There vas no one 10 let her know if some dreadful thing had happened.
 Molly was beginning 10 be homesiok. She wanted someons she loved to talk to. More thar anyone in the world she wanted Jack. And - after Jack - she would like very much, she de. cided, to talk to Red. And then tc Rita. And she was anxious, too to see her father. Then she begar thinking about her mother. Theil relations had been strained bu if anything should happen whil she was away. she would simpl die. she decided.
 She unpacked her bags, ant hung up her clothes listlessly They were wrinkled. And he; prettiest dress, the lovely blur one, was faded almost colorless bl the Italian sun. There were hel colored felt hats wrecks, all O. them. And her shoes, scuffed ou at the toes. Dusty streets, ane miles and miles of museums. Anc she'd give anything in the world for good cup of coffee' Sh, hadn't had a taste of decent coffe, since she could remember Anc bacon and eggs. Oh, how she't love some bacon and eggs.
 Good lord" she fretted. |" wonder why they cant learn t cook bacon"
 All travellers get to feeling tha way. It's feeling that usually set in on rainy days. Or when ther hasn't been any mail from home fo a long time. When the sun come out, or the mail arrives. it usual passes. But when it persists. despit sunshine and letters. the only thin to do is to pack up. and go home.
 Molly's money was beginning disappear. Before. she had al ways stopped at hotels. But | Florence. Tn order to economze she had gone to a pension. whicl is rather like a boarding house il America. Only most pensions ar nicer than most boarding houses And Pension White. on the Rive Arno in Florence. happens to b run by one of the incest wome anywhere.
 Molly was beginning to cry when Signorina Benvenuti knocke at her door. Perhaps she ha guessed that Molly was travel worn and tired, and dsappointe because there was no mail.
 "Wouldnt you like to begi getting acquainted with Flor cnce?" she asked. There is tim before dejeuner to stroll down { Ponte Necchio if you care to-
 Molly looked blank
 "Ponte Vecchio." Signorina ha. tened to explain. 'is the little oI bridge that crosses the Arno. You know the minute you see it. becaus I'm sure you must have seen hun dreds Of pictures Of it. Artists hay been painting Ponte NeCChio for thousand years, I guess. It's wher all the jewelry shops are tucke away. Many of them arc on the yer spots where goldsmiths sold trinket