Olga
nodded and walked on without speaking. Kite accompanying her.
CHAPTER XVII
Olga was the first to break silence.
"You ought to take your boots to be mended," she said gently. "If it
rains, you'll get wet feet, and you know what that means."
"You're very kind to think of it; I will."
"You can pay for them, I hope?"
"Pay? Oh, yes, yes! a trifle such as that--Have you had a long
walk?"
"I met a friend. I may as well tell you; it was the Italian, Mr.
Florio."
"I saw you together," said Kite absently, but not resentfully. "I
half thought of coming up to be introduced to him. But I'm rather
shabby, I feared you mightn't like it."
"It wouldn't have mattered a bit, so far as I'm concerned," replied
Olga good-naturedly. "But he isn't the kind of man you'd care for.
If he had been, I should have got you to meet him before now."
"You like him?"
"Yes, I rather like him. But it's nothing more than that; don't
imagine it. Oh, I had a call from my cousin Irene this morning. We
don't quite get on together; she's getting very worldly. Her idea is
that one ought to marry cold-bloodedly, just for social advantage,
and that kind of thing. No doubt she's going to do it, and then we
shall never see each other again, never!--She tells me that Piers
Otway is coming to England again."
"Oh, now I should like to know _him_, I really should!" exclaimed
Kite, with a mild vivacity.
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