"Do you think I would do what is not right? Come," he continued, "we ought to be on our way out."
Then he strode on, keeping far enough ahead of Irma to prevent conversation. "He is certainly like a spoiled child!" she thought, "and I fancied we were getting on so well together."
The drive back to the hotel was rather silent, as well as hot. "In our hottest weather it is never like this," thought poor Irma. She was glad enough to reach the shelter of the cool hotel.
"Did you see where the papal dominions end and Italy begins?" asked Uncle Jim at déjeuner.
"No? Then you didn't look in the right place. There is one window from which the guide could have shown you a soldier of the Pope's on guard, while at a short distance a sentry from the Italian army is pacing up and down."
"From one or two windows I caught sight of the beautiful Vatican gardens," Irma replied, "and even if the Pope is a prisoner, he must find a great deal to enjoy in his walks."
"If he is a prisoner," began Uncle Jim.
"He is certainly a voluntary prisoner," said Aunt Caroline, "but the subject is too large a one to discuss now."