But she was a fanatic just then, and she smiled at him with a resolution that had in it something almost brutal, something the opposite of what she was, of the sum of her.
“I forgot the time. It is so lovely to-day. It was so gay at Mergellina.”
“Si?”
“I sat for a long time watching the boats, and the boys bathing, and listening to the music. They sang ‘A Mergellina.’”
“Si?”
She smiled again.
“And I went to visit Ruffo’s mother.”
Gaspare made no response. He looked down now as he plied his oars.
“She seems a nice woman. I—I dare say she was quite pretty once.”
The voice that was speaking now was the voice of a fanatic.