"No" she said. "I'm sure it was neither Il Signer Peppino nor Il Signer
Pillson who wrote it. I believe it was the Principessa. So, ecco! And
did we not have a delicious evening at Miss Bracely's the other night?
Such lovely singing, and so interesting to learn that Signor Cortese
made it all up. And those lovely words, for though I didn't understand
much of them, they sounded so exquisite. And fancy Miss Bracely talking
Italian so beautifully when we none of us knew she talked it at all."
Mrs Weston's amiable face was crimson with suppressed emotion, of which
these few words were only the most insignificant leakage, and a very
awkward pause succeeded which was luckily broken by everybody beginning
to talk again very fast and brightly. Then Mrs Weston's chair scudded
away; Piggy skipped away to the stocks where Goosie was sitting with a
large sheet of foolscap, in case her hand twitched for automatic
script, and Lucia turned to Georgie, who alone was left.
"Poor Daisy!" she said. "I dropped in just now, and really I found her
very odd and strange. What with her crazes for Christian Science, and
Uric Acid and Gurus and Mediums, one wonders if she is quite sane. So
sad! I should be dreadfully sorry if she had some mental collapse; that
sort of thing is always so painful. But I know of a first-rate place
for rest-cures; I think it would be wise if I just casually dropped the
name of it to Mr Robert, in case.
Pages:
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285