He turned away.
“A rivederci, Emilio!” called the Marchesino.
“—derci!”
The last syllables only came back to them through the wind and the rain.
“Take my arm, Signorina.”
“Grazie, it is all right like this.”
“Ma—”
“I am quite covered, really, thank you.”
She hurried on, smiling, but not taking his arm. She knew how to be obstinate.
“Ma Signorina—mais Mademoiselle—”