“No matter, Marion,” he said, “no matter. I do not care if you are so old. I love-a you just same.”
I was sidling round along the wall, and now I had reached the door. I ran down the stairs, and I did not stop till I reached the safety of Miss Darling’s room.
“What on earth is the matter?” she cried, as I burst in.
Between laughter and tears I repeated the interview. She couldn’t help laughing at me, especially when I told about the part of “the little bebby.” Then she said:
“Well, we’ll get him out now, but you must never, never flirt with an Italian. You’re apt to be killed if you do.”
Later in the evening Jimmy came. He was very quiet and queer for Jimmy, and he sat down on my window sill, and held his head in his hands. When I told him about Benevenuto, he looked up and said:
“The damn’ little rat. I’ll throw him out of the window.”
After a moment he said:
“Come over here, Marion, I want to tell you something.”
I sat down on the opposite side of the window seat.