“Yes. Come along, Galli; we shall be late.”
Gemma followed the two men out of the room, and presently returned with an egg beaten up in milk.
“Take this, please,” she said with mild authority; and sat down again to her knitting. The Gadfly obeyed meekly.
For half an hour, neither spoke. Then the Gadfly said in a very low voice:
“Signora Bolla!”
She looked up. He was tearing the fringe of the couch-rug, and kept his eyes lowered.
“You didn't believe I was speaking the truth just now,” he began.
“I had not the smallest doubt that you were telling falsehoods,” she answered quietly.
“You were quite right. I was telling falsehoods all the time.”
“Do you mean about the war?”