In her agitation Toni murmured something about an Italian father, not meaning to deceive, but too tired out and confused to pay much heed to her words; and Mrs. Moody put her hand kindly on the girl's arm.
"Well, English or not, you've been a god-send to Luisa and the chicks; so if you have no friends waiting for you at this moment, you must come home with me and let my husband thank you properly."
Somehow Toni found herself stepping into the beautifully-appointed motor-car which waited outside the station; and ten minutes later she was helped out of the motor and taken up a broad and palatial-looking staircase to the large and lofty flat inhabited by her new friends.
Friends indeed they proved to be. Without the slightest hesitation they accepted Toni's rather faltering story of an engagement in England which had proved unsatisfactory; and on learning that her intention in returning to Italy had been to look for another post, they looked at one another in a meaning silence which was explained later, when Mrs. Moody asked her quietly if she would care to undertake the post of governess-companion to the two small children with whom she was already on terms of friendship.
For a moment Toni hesitated. To stay on here, deceiving her employers, representing herself, falsely, as an unmarried woman, would be a poor return for their kindness and generosity; but to tell the truth was surely impossible. Yet she could not bring herself to shut the door which would open to her a new and honourable life in which she might find, if not happiness, at least content; and poor Toni was torn between conflicting emotions as she stood listening to her new friend's proposals.
Mrs. Moody, reading her indecision in her face, bade her think the matter over for a week while she remained with them as an honoured guest; and Toni did so, coming at last to the conclusion that, much as she longed to accept the post, to do so would not be fair to her prospective employers.
She refused, therefore, but with so genuine a regret that the refusal could not give offence. The Moodys, however, while recognizing the girl's claim to independence of judgment, in their turn asserted their claim to befriend her, and Toni was only too ready to accept their advice and assistance.
Hearing that it was of importance that she should set about making some money without delay, Mr. Moody secured for her a post as assistant-librarian and secretary in a big library belonging to an Italian friend of his own.
It was something of an irony that Toni's work should take her into an atmosphere that could not fail to remind her of her husband and his literary aspirations; and her heart used to contract pitifully within her sometimes when she entered the big, lofty, book-lined room, which was not unlike the stately library in the beautiful old house by the river where her married life had come to so tragic a close.
She owed the post to her proficiency in Italian and English rather than to any scholarly ability. To the end of her life Toni would never be bookish. She would always prefer living to reading about life; and it was fortunate that her work in this new library consisted largely of translating, roughly, from books in Italian and English, or in typing, from dictation, in either language.