“Molly, you’re not—”

“Yes, I am.”

“Not married?”

The Irish girl, or rather the Italian lady, nodded.

“Why, Molly, however did you do it? you said he was too poor.”

“He was too poor.”

“And how—”

Molly was pulling off her gloves and laughing.

“My dear, this is another.”

Rosina sank abruptly on the sofa.