“Si.”
He stood there staring at her in a way that seemed, she fancied, to rebuke her. She knew that he wished to know why she had gone out so late, returned to the house, then gone out once more.
“Come up-stairs for a minute, Gaspare,” she said. “I want to speak to you.”
He looked less stern, but still unlike himself.
“Si, Signora. Shall I put on my jacket?”
“No, no, never mind. Come like that.”
She went up-stairs, treading softly, lest she might disturb Vere. He followed. When they were in her sitting-room she said:
“Gaspare, why did you go to bed without coming to say good-night to me?”
He looked rather confused.
“Did I forget, Signora? I was tired. Forgive me.”