Malipieri seated himself on a small chair at a discreet distance.
"I happened to know that they were going out," he said, "so I came."
Sabina looked at him in surprise. It was an odd way to begin a
conversation.
"I wanted to see you alone," he explained. "I thought perhaps you
would come down."
"It was an accident," Sabina answered. "I had left my book here. No
one told me that you had come."
"Of course not. I took the chance that a lucky accident might happen.
It has, but I hope you are not displeased. If you are, you can turn me
out."
"I could go back to my room." Sabina laughed. "Why should I be
displeased?"
"I have not the least idea whether you like me or not," answered
Malipieri.
Sabina wondered whether all men talked like this, or whether it were
not more usual to begin with a few generalities. She was really quite
sure that she liked Malipieri, but it was a little embarrassing to be
called upon to tell him so at once.
"If I wanted you to go away, I should not sit down," she said, still
smiling.
"I hate conventions," answered Malipieri, "and I fancy that you do,
too. We were both brought up in them, and I suppose we think alike
about them."
"Perhaps."
Sabina turned over the book she still held, and looked at the back of
it.
"Exactly," continued Malipieri.
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