"Progress!" cried Florio, with indescribable gesture. "Italy and
progress!--Yet," he proceeded, with a change of voice, "where
would Italy be, but for advertisements? Italy lives by
advertisements. She is the best advertised country in the world!
Suppose the writers and painters ceased to advertise Italy; suppose
it were no more talked about; suppose foreigners ceased to come!
What would happen to Italy, I ask you?"
His face conveyed so wonderfully the suggestion of ravenous hunger,
that Miss Bonnicastle screamed with laughter. Piers did not laugh,
and turned away for a moment.
Soon after, there entered Olga Hannaford. Seeing the two men, she
reddened and looked confused, but Miss Bonnicastle's noisy greeting
relieved her. Her hand was offered first to Otway, who pressed it
without speaking; their eyes met, and to Piers it seemed that she
made an appeal for his forbearance, his generosity. The behaviour of
the Italian was singular. Mute and motionless, he gazed at Olga with
a wonder which verged on consternation; when she turned towards him,
he made a profound bow, as though he met her for the first time.
"Don't you remember me, Mr. Florio?" she asked, in an uncertain
voice.
"Oh--indeed--perfectly," was the stammered reply.
He took her fingers with the most delicate respectfulness, again
bowing deeply; then drew back a little, his eyes travelling rapidly
to the faces of the others, as if seeking an explanation.
Pages:
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394