“No, about the wine made on the new system.”
“And the fowls?”
“Nothing, I didn’t go there. And what have you done, Nini?”
“Talkee, talkee, nothing settled. The worst of it is that I shall have to go there every morning.”
“For how many days?”
“I don’t know; eight or ten, perhaps.”
“A bore, Nini; but you are kind and patient.”
“That is what we were saying,” observed Lucia; “that you are an angel and worthy of adoration.”
“An angel and worthy of adoration,” repeated Andrea, mechanically.