“Yes; I remember exactly how we came, and I shall soon find a cab, I suppose. Do you ever go to the club?”
“Yes, sometimes.”
“I should like very much to meet you again.”
“I daresay you will”—and after a moment’s hesitation:
“Come and see us one day, if you care, and have tea. Via Vantaggio 111. Cesca and I are generally at home in the afternoon.”
“Thanks, I should like to very much. Good-bye, then, and thanks so much.”
She gave him her hand: “The same to you.”
At the gate he looked back; she was scraping her canvas with a palette knife and humming the song they had heard in the café. He remembered the tune, and began to hum it himself as he walked away.