She would set her quick mind to work upon that, and then make the inconsequent retort, which he accepted as perfectly sagacious, because, in fact, it was so—
“Well, and you? You were born there, too.”
He knew his answer.
“That’s different. I’ve been away ten years. Dad never had such a long spell; and it was more than thirty years ago.”
She was the first person to whom he opened his lips after receiving the news of his father’s death.
“It has killed him!” he said.
He had walked straight out of town with the news, straight out before him in the noonday sun on the white road, and his feet had brought him face to face with her in the hall of the ruined palazzo, a room magnificent and n***d, with here and there a long strip of damask, black with damp and age, hanging down on a bare panel
