“Then I’ll walk back just a little piece of way with you—only as far as the big house with the swans.”
Lisa’s company on Cheyne Walk was an honour which Vansittart would have gladly escaped. She was too pretty and too peculiar-looking not to attract notice; and there was the tea-party in Tite Street, with its little crowd of worldlings, any of whom would be curious as to his companion, should he by chance be seen in this society. He did not want to be rude, for the lace-girl from Burano was a creature of strong feelings, and was easily wounded.
“I am in a desperate hurry, Si’ora.”
“You were not in a hurry when I overtook you just now. You were walking slowly. You cannot walk faster than I. At Burano I never used to walk. I always ran.”
“Poverina! How quickly you must have used up your island.”
“Yes; it was like a prison. I used to watch the painted sails of the fishing-boats, and long for them to carry me away to any place different from that island, where I knew every face and every paving-stone. That is why I love your London, in spite of fogs and grey skies. It is so big, so big.”
She stopped, with clasped hands and flashing eyes. A street boy wheeled round to look at her, and gave a low whistle of admiring surprise; and at the same instant Sefton turned a street corner, came across the road, and passed close to Vansittart and his companion.
Of all men living, this man was the last whom Vansittart would have cared to meet under such conditions.
CHAPTER XV.
“LOVE SHOULD BE ABSOLUTE LOVE.”