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"Signorina! Signorina!" he exclaimed. "Madonna!"
On that exclamation he went out, trying to make his back look
condemnatory.
"Only Don Emilio!" Artois repeated.
Vere went to him, and took and held his hand for a moment.
"Yes--only! That's my little compliment. Madre would say of you. 'He's
such an old shoe!' Such compliments come from the heart, you know."
She still held his hand.
"I should have to put my hair up for anybody else. And Gaspare wanted
me to for you."
Artois was looking rather grave and tired. She noticed that now, and
dropped his hand and moved towards a bell.
"Tea!" she said, "all alone with me--for a treat!"
"Isn't your mother in?"
"No. She's gone to Naples. I'm very, very sorry. Make the best of it,
Monsieur Emile, for the sake of my /amour propre/. I said I was sorry
--but that was only for you, and Madre."
Artois smiled.
"Is an old shoe a worthy object of gross flattery?" he said.
"No."
"Then--"
"Don't be cantankerous, and don't be subtle, because I've been
bathing.


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