She had not been long in her studio when a well-known step came ringing down the long passage, and she had barely time to fling a cloth over the bust of Maud, before Tor had entered, as he now did almost at will, greeting her in frank, brotherly fashion.
‘Well, Roma, how is the world going with you to-day? How is your father?’
‘Better, thanks; much more like himself every day. Have you seen him?’
‘No. I heard a jabber of Italian going on in his room, so I walked past and came here. Whom has he got with him to-day?’
‘An Italian gentleman—an old friend of yours.’
‘Of mine?’
‘So he says. He met you in Italy, and talks affectionately of his friend Filippo.’
‘The devil he does!’ breathed Tor to himself; but aloud he said, ‘Very kind of him, I’m sure. What’s the fellow’s name?’
‘Marco Pagliadini.’
‘Never heard of him, to my knowledge.’