"Yes, I did,—when you were not by."
"I wonder who he is! C. G.! That fine man in the brown coat was his servant, you know. I thought at first that C. G. must have been cracked, and that the tall man was his keeper."
"I never knew any one less like a madman."
"No;—but the man was so queer. He did nothing, you know. We hardly saw him, if you remember, at Turin. All he did was to tie the shawls at Bologna. What can any man want with another man about with him like that, unless he is cracked either in body or mind?"
"You'd better ask C. G. yourself."
"I shall never see C. G. again, I suppose. I should like to see him again. I guess you would too, Carry. Eh?"
"Of course, I should;—why not?"
"I never knew a man so imperturbable, and who had yet so much to say for himself. I wonder what he is! Perhaps he's on business, and that man was a kind of a clerk."
"He had livery buttons on," said Carry.
"And does that make a difference?"