The waiter’s face clouded.
“You do not wish to remain longer, signore?”
“Can’t stand it, Gustavo; it’s too infernally restful.”
Poor Gustavo saw a munificent shower of tips vanishing into nothing. His face was rueful but his manner was undiminishingly polite.
“Si, signore, sank you. When shall you wish ze omnibus?”
“Tomorrow morning for the first boat.”
Gustavo bowed to the inevitable; and the young man passed on. He paused half way across the court-yard.
“What time does the first boat leave?”
“At half past five, signore.”
“Er—no—I’ll take the second.”