"Si."
"Do you think the signora will be asleep?"
"I don't know. I suppose so."
The boy looked wise.
"I do not think so," he said, firmly.
"What—at three o'clock in the morning!"
"I think the signora will be on the terrace watching for us."
Maurice's lips twitched.
"Chi lo sa?" he replied.
He tried to speak carelessly, but where was his habitual carelessness of spirit, his carelessness of a boy now? He felt that he had lost it forever, lost it in that last hour of the fair.