"I know he did. I heard it."
"Why didn't you tell him he might come?"
"Because we are not in Boston, Livy. It might be the most horrible thing in the world to do here in Florence; and it may make a difference, because Uncle Jonas is minister."
"Why should that make a difference? Do you mean that one isn't to see one's own friends? That must be nonsense."
"But he isn't a friend, Livy."
"It seems to me as if I'd known him for ever. That soft, monotonous voice, which never became excited and never disagreeable, is as familiar to me as though I had lived with it all my life."
"I thought him very pleasant."
"Indeed you did, Carry. And he thought you pleasant too. Doesn't it seem odd? You were mending his glove for him this very afternoon, just as if he were your brother."
"Why shouldn't I mend his glove?"
"Why not, indeed? He was entitled to have everything mended after getting us such a good dinner at Bologna. By-the-bye, you never paid him."