“I suppose he is. But you’re a generous fellow to say that; I shan’t forget it. Here we are; bundle out.”
Their carriage had stopped in the piazza, and Colin getting out, felt his lips curl into a smile of peculiar satisfaction. That his father should believe him to be a generous fellow was pleasant in itself, and the entire falsity of his belief added spice to the morsel. He seemed to like it better just because it was untrue.
Colin stepped into the drifting summer existence of visitors to the island with the same aptness as that which had graced his entry to his mother’s native land. He went down to the bathing-beach after breakfast with a book and a packet of cigarettes, and spent a basking amphibious morning. Sometimes his father accompanied him, and after a constitutional swim, sat in the shade while Colin played the fish in the sea or the salamander on the beach. On other mornings Lord Yardley remained up at the villa, which suited Colin quite well, for this uninterrupted companionship of his father was very tedious. But he always managed to leave the impression that he wanted Lord Yardley to come with him.
And so much this morning did Colin want to be alone that, had Philip said that he was coming with him, he would probably have pleaded a laziness or indisposition, for he had that morning received a letter from Violet which called for solitary and uninterrupted reflection. To-day, however, Philip’s brother-in-law, Salvatore Viagi, had announced his advent, “to pay his fraternal respects and give his heart’s welcome,” so ran his florid phrase—and Philip remained at the villa to receive these tributes.
“It’s a nuisance,” he said, “for I should have liked a dip. But I should have to hurry back to get here before him.”
Colin laughed. “You speak as if he might steal the silver,” he said.
“Perfectly capable of it,” said his father. “No, I shouldn’t have said that. But he’s perfectly capable of asking for it.”
Colin perceived that there was no danger of his father’s coming down to bathe with him. “Surely he can wait till we get back,” he said. “Come down and bathe, father!”
Philip shook his head. “No, I can’t,” he said. “Salvatore would think it very odd and rude if I were not here. He wouldn’t understand: he would think I was intentionally unceremonious.”
“He sounds rather a bounder,” observed Colin.