"Nothing else is, at present. Most doors seem closed pretty tight except the one marked Tradesmen's Entrance."
"You can't 'arrive' by that."
"Not, I admit, with any dignity. My idea was to walk up the steps—there are a great many steps, I know—to the big front door and keep on knocking at it till they let me in."
"I'm afraid the front door isn't always open very early in the day. But there may be side doors."
"I don't know where to find them. And if I did, they would be bolted, too."
"Not the one I am thinking of. Would you like to go abroad, to Italy?"
"There are a great many things I should like to do, and not the remotest chance of doing them."
"Supposing that you got the chance, some way—even if it wasn't quite the best way—would you take it?"
"The chance? I wish I saw one!"
"I think I told you I was going abroad to join my father. We shall be in Italy for some time. When we are settled, in Rome, for the winter, I shall want a secretary. I'm thinking of editing my grandfather's unpublished writings, and I can't do this without a scholar's help. It struck me that if you want to go abroad, and nothing better turns up, you might care to take this work for a year. For the sake of seeing Italy."