The young man shrugged and removed his foot from the step.
‘As you please,’ he returned in a tone which carried an impression of slightly wounded feelings. The driver looked back expectantly, waiting for his directions. Paul hesitated a moment, and then turned toward her again as if inquiring the way. ‘Is there any hope for me?’ he said.
She looked away without answering.
‘There’s no other man?’ he added quickly.
Marcia for a second looked up in his face. ‘No,’ she shook her head, ‘there’s no other man.’
He straightened up, with a happy laugh. ‘Then I’ll win,’ he whispered, and he shook her hand as if on a compact.
‘Stazione,’ he called to the driver. And as the carriage started, Marcia glanced back and nodded toward the Roystons, with a quick smile for Paul.
CHAPTER VIII
‘Ah, Sybert, you’re just the man I wanted to see!’ Melville came up the walk of the palazzo occupied by the American ambassador as Sybert, emerging from the door, paused on the top step to draw on his gloves.
‘In that case,’ the latter returned, ‘it’s well you didn’t come five minutes later, or I should have been lost to the world for the afternoon. What’s up?’