‘They will reach Rome in a week or so.’
‘Holy Week—I might have known it! Miss Copley,’ he looked at her appealingly, ‘you know what an indefatigable woman my aunt is. She will make me escort her to every religious function that blessed city offers; it isn’t her way to miss anything.’
Marcia smiled slightly at the picture; it was lifelike.
‘I shall be stopping in Palestrina when they come,’ he added.
She let this observation pass in a disapproving silence.
‘Oh, well,’ he sighed, ‘I’ll stay and tote them around if you think I ought. The Bible says, you know, “Love your relatives and show mercy unto them that despitefully use you.”’
Marcia flashed a sudden laugh and then looked grave.
Paul glanced up at her quickly. ‘I suppose my aunt told you no end of bad things about me?’
‘Was there anything to tell?’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ve committed the unpardonable sin of preferring art in Rome to coal in Pittsburg.’