Virginia puckered her brows thoughtfully; she did not in the least believe in either Egidio's love or his disinterestedness—still less in his marrying on a "friendly footing" merely, but she could give no positive grounds for her disbelief. Ragna's reserve and her refusal to discuss her fiancé's motives, or in any way throw more light on the question forbade any further pursuance of the subject. After all if the girl was satisfied, what more was necessary, what more could be said or done? Virginia had an uncomfortable feeling that the matter should not be left thus, but Ragna's next words closed the subject definitely and decisively.
"Thank you very much indeed for your kindly interest, Signora. There are many things I should like to consult you about, as I am a stranger here. Will you help me with my little trousseau?"
A trousseau is a subject near and dear to the feminine heart the world over, and the two were still immersed in the fascinating discussion when the tinkle of the door-bell announced Egidio's arrival. Virginia rose as he entered the room and turning to Ragna, kissed her on both cheeks.
"I wish you all happiness, my dear," she said pointedly, "I really must run away now, the babies will be calling for me. I shall come for you in the morning and we will go shopping."
She gave her finger-tips to Egidio and their eyes met, each divining in the other a veiled hostility. In her glance he read an undisguised query and he met it with a sort of insolent defiance.
"Congratulations," she said, in her clear, low voice. "You have gained a good wife—take care of her or I shall hold you to account."
He bowed, "Servo suo, Signora Virginia," and opened the door for her.
He returned to Ragna, a slight frown on his face, but waited with characteristic caution until the outer door slammed to, before he said,
"The Signora Virginia does not like me, cara; you must not let her poison your mind against me."
Ragna flushed guiltily, but loyally took up the cudgels in her friend's defence.