“Ah, but you have all my thoughts,” I replied, for she was looking charming.
“I don’t care so much about your thoughts,” she said. Then, after a pause, she went on, “It’s very hot here, come into the conservatory.”
It almost looked as though she had been waiting for me, and I followed in high delight into the long, narrow glass house running parallel to the salon. High green plants hid us from the view of those inside, and we only heard distinctly his Excellency’s voice, saying with much geniality to the colonel, “Well, you must be lucky in love, colonel,” from which I concluded that the colonel was not in the vein at cards.
The signorina smiled slightly as she heard; then she plucked a white rose, turned round, and stood facing me, slightly flushed as though with some inner excitement.
“I am afraid those two gentlemen do not love one another,” she said.
“Hardly,” I assented.
“And you, do you love them—or either of them?”
“I love only one person in Aureataland,” I replied, as ardently as I dared.
The signorina bit her rose, glancing up at me with unfeigned amusement and pleasure. I think I have mentioned that she didn’t object to honest admiration.
“Is it possible you mean me?” she said, making me a little courtesy. “I only think so because most of the Whittingham ladies would not satisfy your fastidious taste.”