"How very odd!" said Ethel, thoughtfully.
"And now I suppose you'll all go and say that I brought him too," said Minnie. "That's always the way you do. You never seem to think that I may be innocent. You always blame me for every little mite of a thing that may happen."
No one made any remark, and there was silence in the carriage as the stranger approached. The ladies bowed somewhat coolly, except Minnie, who threw upon him the most imploring look that could possibly be sent from human eyes, and the Italian's impressible nature thrilled before those beseeching, pleading, earnest, unfathomable, tender, helpless, innocent orbs. Removing his hat, he bowed low.
"I haf not been awara," he said, politely, in his broken English, "that youar ladysippa's bin intend to travalla. Ees eet not subito intenzion?"
Mrs. Willoughby made a polite response of a general character, the Italian paused a moment to drink in deep draughts from Minnie's great beseeching eyes that were fixed upon his, and then, with a low bow, he passed on.
"I believe I'm losing my senses," said Mrs. Willoughby.
"Why, Kitty darling?" asked Minnie.
"I don't know how it is, but I actually trembled when that man came up, and I haven't got over it yet."
"I'm sure I don't see why," said Minnie. "You're always imagining things, though. Now isn't she, Ethel dearest?"
"Well, really, I don't see much in the Count to make one tremble. I suppose poor dear Kitty has been too much agitated lately, and it's her poor nerves."