“Bah!” she exploded with fierce contempt; “what does it matter? But, signor, will you let me kiss you?”
“Certainly, if you wish.” I extended one cheek.
She gave me a quick, smothering embrace from which I had difficulty in detaching myself. “To-morrow, then, without fail. But where and when?”
“I’ll meet you at the Aquarium at eleven o’clock,” I said.
“At the Aquarium, then. And you’ll think of me? And you’ll try to love me?”
“Yes, yes, I will. Please go out very quietly. Au revoir till eleven to-morrow.”
But by eleven o’clock next morning I was exultantly on my way to London.
CHAPTER VII
A BOTTLE OF INK
The disadvantage of persistent globe-trotting is that it makes the world so deplorably provincial. With familiarity the glamour of the far and strange is swept away, till at last there is nothing left to startle and delight. Better, indeed, to leave shrines unvisited and shores unsought; then may we still hold them fondly under the domination of dream.
Much had I read of the lure of London, of its hold upon the heart; but to the end I entirely failed to realise its charm. To me in those grim December days it always remained the City of Grime and Gloom, so that I ultimately left it the poorer by a score of lost illusions.