“I’m sorry,” Lady Holme said.
And she said it with more tenderness than she had ever before used to a woman.
Lady Cardington pressed a pocket-handkerchief against her eyes.
“Sing me that song again,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything more. Just sing it again and I’ll go.”
Lady Holme went to the piano.
“Torna in fior di giovinezza
Isaotta Blanzesmano,
Dice: Tutto al mondo a vano:
Nell’amore ogni dolcezza.”
When the last note died away she looked towards the sofa. Lady Cardington was gone. Lady Holme leaned her arm on the piano and put her chin in her hand.
“How awful to be old!” she thought.
Half aloud she repeated the last words of the refrain: “Nell’amore ogni dolcezza.” And then she murmured:
“Poor Sir Donald!”