"Where?"
"I have been to the fair of San Felice."
He smiled.
"Oh—San Felice! And did you go in the train?"
"Oh no, signore. I went on a donkey. It was last year, in June. It was beautiful. There were women there in blue silk dresses with ear-rings as long as that"—she measured their length in the air with her brown fingers—"and there was a boy from Napoli, a real Napolitano, who sang and danced as we do not dance here. I was very happy that day. And I was given an image of Sant' Abbondio."
She looked at him with a sort of dignity, as if expecting him to be impressed.
"Carissima!" he whispered, almost under his breath.
Her little air of pride, as of a travelled person, enchanted him, even touched him, he scarcely knew why, as he had never been enchanted or touched by any London beauty.
"I wish I had been at the fair with you. I would have given you—"