Chapter Fifteen
THEY stood at the summit of that double flight of marble steps which run up the right-hand side of the Milan Cathedral’s roof and down the left. There are one hundred steps on either side, and having just mounted the right-hand hundred Rosina looked down the left-hand hundred with an affright born of appreciative understanding.
“Oh, Jack,” she cried, “I never shall get down from here alive! What did you ever bring me up for?”
“I brought you up to talk,” said her cousin. “Come over here, and sit down on the ridge-pole beside me.”
The ridge-pole of the Milan Cathedral is of white marble, like all the rest of the edifice; it is wide and flat, and just the height for a comfortable seat.
The cousins placed themselves side by side thereon, and Jack lit a cigarette while he deliberated on just how he should proceed with the case in hand.
“‘I want you to pay a lot of attention to what I am going to say, Rosina’”