“We haven’t been here twenty-four hours!” in mild protest.
“What has that to do with it? It doesn’t make any difference.”
“I suppose not.” He cracked and ate a nut. “Where is he?”
“He has gone to Milan. He left hurriedly. He’s a fool,” impatiently.
“Not necessarily. Foolishness is one thing and discretion is another. Oh, well; his presence here was not absolutely essential. Presently he will marry and settle down and be a good boy.” The next nut was withered, and he tossed it aside. “Is her voice really gone?”
“No.” Flora leaned with her arms upon the railing and glared at the wimpling water. She had carried the Apple of Discord up the hill and down again. Nora had been indisposed.
“I am glad of that.”
She turned the glare upon him.
“I am very glad of that, considering your part in the affair.”
“Michael...!”