Her son's voice at once became on guard.
"Yes. I thought you would like her," he said. "You know I told you so."
"You didn't tell me half, my dear. She is a very unusual woman indeed—girl, I feel like saying. Really she seems amazingly girlish to have been through such bitter experiences. That terrible dinner you told me of——"
"Yes. That does strike one."
The Marchesa smoked for a few moments.
"Does she seem very éprise with her husband?" she asked at last.
"I haven't seen them together more than twice—I couldn't say. I haven't seen much of Mrs. Chesney herself, you know."
"I didn't know," reflected the Marchesa; but matters seemed to her all the more serious because of that statement. If she, his mother, could see in a few hours the strong influence that Sophy had upon him, and if this influence had resulted from such a slight acquaintance, then it was more necessary than ever that she should speak.
She threw away her cigarette, and leaned back.
"Caro Marco," she said, "I'm going to do a thing that I've rarely done. I'm going to do it because I think I ought to, though I dislike doing it very much. And I want you to be indulgent to Baldi—eh? Will you?"