"Nothing that would interest you," the other answered.
"How can you say so?" the elder sister protested, with indulgent tenderness. "Whatever pleases you or moves you must interest me."
"Nothing pleases me and nothing moves me," Laura said, looking down.
"Not even what you are writing?"
"Not even what I am writing."
"How reserved you are! How close you keep your secrets! But why should you have any?" Anna insisted affectionately.
"Yes," said Laura, vaguely. She got up and left the room, carrying her key with her.
Anna never again referred to what her sister was writing. It might be letters, it might be a journal.
In July, Sorrento filled up with tourists and holiday folk; and the other villas were occupied by their owners. The sisters were invited about a good deal, and lured into the thousand summer gaieties of the town.
One of the earliest arrivals was Luigi Caracciolo. He came to Sorrento every season, but usually not till the middle of August, and then to spend no more than a fortnight. He had rather a disdain for Sorrento, he who had travelled over the whole of Europe. This year he came in the first week of July; and he was determined to stay until Anna Dias left. He was genuinely in love with her; in his own way, of course. The mystery that hung over her past, and her love for Cesare Dias, which Luigi knew to be unrequited, made her all the dearer to him. He was in love, as men are in love who have loved many times before. Sometimes he lost his head a little in her presence, but never more than a little. He retained his mastery of himself sufficiently to pursue his own well-proved methods of love-making. He covered his real passion with a semblance of levity which served admirably to compel Anna to tolerate it.