"What a pity! It must be very bad for you. Which is your ferry?"
"I don't belong to any."
"But I thought every gondolier belonged to a ferry."
There was no reply.
"Isn't that so?" May insisted.
"Si, Signorina, but I am no longer a gondolier."
"Why, what are you?"
At this juncture Uncle Dan felt it imperatively necessary to interpose again.
"That's San Clemente," he observed, indicating an island half-a-mile away, composed, apparently, of red brick and window-glass.
"How lovely!" May exclaimed; and the indiscriminating response betrayed inattention.