“I am not worth all the trouble I have given you.”
“Perhaps not,” he said, smiling. “Hilaire sent you a long message, but I want to hear what we are supposed to be doing here first.”
“Dear Hilaire!... Jean, you won’t be angry?”
“I don’t promise anything,” he said. “I shall probably be furious. But in any case, if it is going to be a long story we may as well make ourselves at home.”
“Not here! I must tell you quickly, before he comes.”
He noticed that she looked towards the door, and he understood that she was listening fearfully for the creaking of the gate, the sound of footsteps on the path outside, the turning of the key in the lock.
“Tor di Rocca, I suppose? When is he coming?”
“Between one and two.”
“We have at least half an hour then,” he said comfortably, and drew her closer to him with his arm about her shoulders.
“When I first came to Rome I tried for weeks to get something to do, but no one seemed to want lessons. Then one day Signora Aurelia’s sister told me how poor she was. She cried, and I was very much upset because I felt I was a burden, and that very afternoon I found out a way of making money ... Jean, you won’t be angry?”