The olive-trees beside him were
draped with the weekly--or more probably the monthly--wash.
What a frightful spotty blouse! He could not think where he
had seen it. Then he remembered that it was Lilia's. She
had brought it "to hack about in" at Sawston, and had taken
it to Italy because "in Italy anything does." He had
rebuked her for the sentiment.
"Beautiful as an angel!" bellowed Perfetta, holding out
something which must be Lilia's baby. "But who am I addressing?"
"Thank you--here is my card." He had written on it a
civil request to Gino for an interview next morning. But
before he placed it in the basket and revealed his identity,
he wished to find something out. "Has a young lady happened
to call here lately--a young English lady?"
Perfetta begged his pardon: she was a little deaf.
"A young lady--pale, large, tall."
She did not quite catch.
"A YOUNG LADY!"
"Perfetta is deaf when she chooses," said the Dogana's
relative. At last Philip admitted the peculiarity and
strode away. He paid off the detestable child at the
Volterra gate. She got two nickel pieces and was not
pleased, partly because it was too much, partly because he
did not look pleased when he gave it to her. He caught her
fathers and cousins winking at each other as he walked past
them. Monteriano seemed in one conspiracy to make him look
a fool. He felt tired and anxious and muddled, and not sure
of anything except that his temper was lost. In this mood
he returned to the Stella d'Italia, and there, as he was
ascending the stairs, Miss Abbott popped out of the
dining-room on the first floor and beckoned to him mysteriously.
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