"
"I notice that."
"And I feel so calm and delicious. Tea, please, Giulia."
The plump, dark woman who had opened the door smiled and retreated.
"So calm and so delicious, Monsieur Emile, and as if I were made of
friendliness from top to toe."
"The all-the-world feeling. I know."
He sat down, rather heavily.
"You are tired. When did you come?"
"I arrived this morning. It was hot travelling, and I shared my
compartment in the wagon-lit with a German gentleman very far advanced
in several unaesthetic ailments. Basta! Thank Heaven for this. Calm
and delicious!"
His large, piercing eyes were fixed upon Vere.
"And about twelve," he added, "or twelve-and-a-half."
"I?"
"Yes, you. I am not speaking of myself, though I believe I am calm
also."
"I am a woman--practically."
"Practically?"
"Yes; isn't that the word people always put in when they mean 'that's
a lie'?"
"You mean you aren't a woman! This afternoon I must agree with you."
"It's the sea! But just now, when you were coming, I was looking at
myself in the glass and saying, 'You're a woman'--solemnly, you know,
as if it was a dreadful truth.
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