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airing it deserved. As in most summers there was almost no rain that year and everyday the dust grew thicker over the Campagna Romana and its wraith like olive trees over the cobbled streets of Tivoli and the setting sun. The odor of dust clung like the incense from long extinguished censors? and the falling of water in the depths of the Grotto of the Sybil sounded like culminations from a Dantesque subterranean limbo.

Finally September came and many of the students went back to the States. A few stayed on to continue their studies in Rome for the winter. Corti took a furnished room for me in the apartment above the one occupied by his wife and himself and I was expected to drop in daily at tea time, on these occasions it was thought well to re?iss? my upbringing in accordance with Italian customs. "You should be more orderly," Corti would say, "See how badly you have furled your umbrella - a girl who is untidy in the little things of life is likely to be so