Crazy Radio eBooks

Emile was the
last person whom she wished to see--by whom she wished to be seen--
just then.
The narrow path turned away from the sea into the shadow of high
banks. She walked very slowly, like one out for a desultory stroll; a
lizard slipped across the warm earth in front of her, almost touching
her foot, climbed the bank swiftly, and vanished among the dry leaves
with a faint rustle.
She felt quite alone to-day in Italy, and far off, as if she had no
duties, no ties, as if she were one of those solitary, drifting,
middle-aged women who vaguely haunt the beaten tracks of foreign
lands. It was sultry in this path away from the sea. She was sharply
conscious of the change of climate, the inland sensation, the falling
away of the freedom from her, the freedom that seems to exhale from
wave and wind of the wave.
She walked on, meeting no one and still undecided what to do. The
thought of the Scoglio di Frisio returned to her mind, was dismissed,
returned again. She might go and dine there quietly alone.


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