A long pause followed. She had bent her head low, so that her face almost touched her knees.
"Signor Malipieri—" she began, at last, in rather a trembling tone.
"Yes? What is it?" He bent down to her, but she did not look up.
"I—I—hardly know how to say it," she faltered. "Shall you think very, very badly of me if I ask you to do something—something that—" She stopped.
"There is nothing in heaven or earth I will not do for you," he answered. "And I shall certainly not think anything very dreadful." He tried to speak cheerfully.
"I think I shall die of the cold," she said. "There might be a way—"
"Yes? Anything!"
Then she spoke very low.
"Do you think you could just put your arms round me for a minute or two?" she asked.
Piteously cold though she was, the blood rushed to her face as she uttered the words; but Malipieri felt it in his throat and eyes.