Francesca came back. “The Signora Fisher,” she said, “will be pleased to see him.”
“Who is the Signora Fisher?” he asked Rose.
“One of the four who are sharing your house.”
“Then there are four of you?”
“Yes. My friend and I found we couldn’t afford it by ourselves.”
“Oh, I say—” began Briggs in confusion, for he would best have liked Rose Arbuthnot—pretty name—not to have to afford anything, but to stay at San Salvatore as long as she liked as his guest.
“Mrs. Fisher is having coffee in the top garden,” said Rose. “I’ll take you to her and introduce you.”
“I don’t want to go. You’ve got your hat on, so you were going for a walk. Mayn’t I come too? I’d immensely like being shown round by you.”
“But Mrs. Fisher is waiting for you.”
“Won’t she keep?”