"Lamberti? No, least of all, Lamberti!"
"Why do you say, least of all?"
"Because you do not like him," Guido answered, with perfect sincerity.
"Oh! I see. I am not sure, of course, but I am glad you do not mean to tell him. It would make me nervous to think that he might know. I—I am not quite certain why it makes me nervous, but it does."
"Have no fear. When shall I see you?"
He had noticed that Cecilia's mother was beginning that little comedy of movements, and glances, and uneasy turnings of the head, by which mothers of marriageable daughters signify their intention of going home. The works of a clock probably act in the same way before striking.
"I will make my mother ask you to dinner. Are you free to-morrow night?"
"Any night."
"No—I mean really. Are you?"
"Yes, really. Lamberti does not count, for we generally dine together when we have no other engagement."