This plan arranged itself spontaneously; but as the Boy had ungallantly called Gaetà "a little cat," and I was slightly blasé of her dimples, I thought that I might count upon its being carried out.
"What—he will go away?" exclaimed Paolo, all at once a different man. "He will leave Aix altogether, you say?"
"Yes. You see, we are on our way south. Mr. Laurence merely wanted a glance at Aix en route, and the Contessa was kind enough to invite him to her house. It was really nice of her, as he is such a boy."
"You think so? Yes—perhaps. Well, I consent on these terms to forget. You may tell your principal what I have said."
"I will," I returned. "He will be guided by me, and forget also; though I assure you, like most of his countrymen, he is a fire-eater—a fire-eater."
This time it was Paolo who volunteered to shake hands.
There is No Such Girl
"She has forgotten my kisses, and I—have forgotten her name."
—A.C. Swineburne.