After a while we said good-night and left. Walking home Rinaldi said, “Miss Barkley prefers you to me. That is very clear. But the little Scotch one is very nice.”
“Very,” I said. I had not noticed her. “You like her?”
“No,” said Rinaldi.
CHAPTER V
The next afternoon I went to call on Miss Barkley again. She was not in the garden and I went to the side door of the villa where the ambulances drove up. Inside I saw the head nurse, who said Miss Barkley was on duty—“there’s a war on, you know.”
I said I knew.
“You’re the American in the Italian army?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How did you happen to do that? Why didn’t you join up with us?”