“Possibly,” was the dry response. “My memory is scarcely so good.”
“You know I never forget a face, Tom,” broke in the lady.
“I constantly do,” said Mosely, tartly.
“Yes, but you must see so many people every day of your life, such hordes passing in and passing out, as I said to Morgan, it's no wonder at all if he can't remember us.”
Mr. Mosely had just burned his finger with a lucifer-match, and mattered something not actually a benediction.
“Great changes over Italy—indeed, over all Europe—since we met last here,” said Morgan, anxious to get discussion into a safer region.
“Yes, the Italians are behaving admirably; they 've shown the world that they are fully capable of winning their liberty, and knowing how to employ it.”
“Don't believe it, sir,—bigoted set of rascals,—it's all pillage,—simple truth is, the Governments were all too good for them.”
“You're right, Tom; perfectly right.”
“He 'll not have many to agree with him, then; of that, madam, be well assured. The sympathies of the whole world are with these people.”