He got up, drove her off, and finding a large
glass stopper by the bowl, entirely plugged up the aperture
with it.
"But may not the fish die?" said Miss Abbott. "They
have no air."
"Fish live on water, not on air," he replied in a
knowing voice, and sat down. Apparently he was at his ease
again, for he took to spitting on the floor. Philip glanced
at Lilia but did not detect her wincing. She talked bravely
till the end of the disgusting meal, and then got up saying,
"Well, Philip, I am sure you are ready for by-bye. We shall
meet at twelve o'clock lunch tomorrow, if we don't meet
before. They give us caffe later in our rooms."
It was a little too impudent. Philip replied, "I should
like to see you now, please, in my room, as I have come all
the way on business." He heard Miss Abbott gasp. Signor
Carella, who was lighting a rank cigar, had not understood.
It was as he expected. When he was alone with Lilia he
lost all nervousness. The remembrance of his long
intellectual supremacy strengthened him, and he began volubly--
"My dear Lilia, don't let's have a scene. Before I
arrived I thought I might have to question you. It is
unnecessary. I know everything. Miss Abbott has told me a
certain amount, and the rest I see for myself."
"See for yourself?" she exclaimed, and he remembered
afterwards that she had flushed crimson.
"That he is probably a ruffian and certainly a cad."
"There are no cads in Italy," she said quickly.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51