"Gaspare," she said, "you know me pretty well by this time, don't
you?"
"Know you, Signora! Of course I know you!" He gazed at her, then
added, "Who should know you, Signora, if I do not?"
"That is just what I mean, Gaspare. I wonder--I wonder--" She broke
off. "Do you understand, Gaspare, how important you are to me, how
necessary you are to me?"
An expressive look that was full of gentleness dawned in his big eyes.
"Si, Signora, I understand."
"And I think you ought to understand my character by this time." She
looked at him earnestly. "But I sometimes wonder--I mean lately--I
sometimes wonder whether you do quite understand me."
"Why, Signora?"
"Do you know what I like best from the people who are near me, who
live with me?"
"Si, Signora."
"What?"
"Affection, Signora. You like to be cared for, Signora."
She felt tears rising again in her eyes.
"Yes, I love affection. But--there's something else, too. I love to be
trusted. I'm not curious. I hate to pry into people's affairs.
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