"I want to speak to you
alone. At ten."
"Certainly!" laughed the other.
Miss Abbott was sitting up for him when he got back.
Harriet, it seemed, had gone straight to bed.
"That was he, wasn't it?" she asked.
"Yes, rather."
"I suppose you didn't settle anything?"
"Why, no; how could I? The fact is--well, I got taken by
surprise, but after all, what does it matter? There's no
earthly reason why we shouldn't do the business pleasantly.
He's a perfectly charming person, and so are his friends.
I'm his friend now--his long-lost brother. What's the harm?
I tell you, Miss Abbott, it's one thing for England and
another for Italy. There we plan and get on high moral
horses. Here we find what asses we are, for things go off
quite easily, all by themselves. My hat, what a night! Did
you ever see a really purple sky and really silver stars
before? Well, as I was saying, it's absurd to worry; he's
not a porky father. He wants that baby as little as I do.
He's been ragging my dear mother--just as he ragged me
eighteen months ago, and I've forgiven him. Oh, but he has
a sense of humour!"
Miss Abbott, too, had a wonderful evening, nor did she
ever remember such stars or such a sky. Her head, too, was
full of music, and that night when she opened the window her
room was filled with warm, sweet air. She was bathed in
beauty within and without; she could not go to bed for
happiness. Had she ever been so happy before? Yes, once
before, and here, a night in March, the night Gino and Lilia
had told her of their love--the night whose evil she had come
now to undo.
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