“But I’m perfectly well,” she said.
“You look very ill, Signora,” he returned.
“I’m a little bit tired, perhaps.”
He said no more, and rowed steadily on for a while. But presently she found him looking gravely at her again.
“Signora,” he began, “the Signorina loves the island.”
“Yes, Gaspare.”
“Do you love it?”
The question startled her. Had he read her thoughts in the last days?
“Don’t you think I love it?” she asked.
“You go away from it very often, Signora.”