“Why, what dear, lovable ingenuity,” I could not help exclaiming. “And is one for you then, dear?”
“And why not, pray?” exclaimed Clara; “why should not I have notes as well as somebody, who has her meetings as well?”
“I’m sure I don’t,” I exclaimed. “How can you say so? Why, you know I did not meet him.”
“Not your fault, my dear,” said Clara, sarcastically. “But there, I’m not complaining; but when I am so open and confidential, I’m sure you need not be so close.”
“Now, did you not promise to forget all that?” I said.
“Well, yes, so I did,” she replied; “and I won’t say any more about it. But this was clever, wasn’t it; and I’m sure I give you every credit for managing that slip so well.”
“Indeed—indeed—indeed—indeed!” I said, “it was an accident.”
But it was no use whatever; and the more I protested, the more the tiresome thing would not believe me; till I grew so cross I could have pinched her, only that I could not afford to quarrel just then.
By means of changing parasols, I obtained possession of my note; and then, how long the time did seem before we received our orders to turn back! But I learnt, though, from Clara, that Achille had made quite a confidante of the Signor, and that they were both planning together for us to have a long meeting.
“But how do you get to know all this?” I said.