“I’ve got a gondola waiting right here ...” he looked along the bobbing, yelling line of gondoliers who shouted their wares and virtues below the quay. “Dash that fellow ...” she heard him mutter. “Oh well, never mind Cyn, we’ll take this one,” and still with that air of a nephew-who-expects-to-be-well-remembered-in-the-will, piloted her down the step.
The wide upholstered seat was very comfortable. With surprisingly little fuss they were in the center of the stream, Chick had given the order, his fingers caught hers and held them tight. Good, then they really were still engaged! Cynthia chuckled happily.
“I can’t ...” she turned to gaze at him ... “can’t get over this Chick. It’s the greatest surprise of my life.”
“That was the intention,” Chick grinned back. He had, he told her, arrived in Naples two days ago, had promptly wired Nancy to find Cynthia’s exact address and had been told of the train she would take to Venice.
“Neat, very neat!” approved Cynthia. “If I just hadn’t taken a local by mistake. And now where are you taking me?”
“Pensione Casa Petrarca?”
She nodded, Yes, that was where she had reserved a room.
“Had your breakfast? Good. Then wash and tidy up and we’ll do a bit of sightseeing. After that. ...” Quietly he slipped his hand from hers, slid it into his pocket.
“Oh dear, Chick, what’s the matter, what is it?”
“I’ve ... that is I seem to have. ...” And with the maddening masculine manner of one blessed with many pockets started fumbling through them all, one after another.