THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS.
No. XXIV.
SCENE—The Piazza of St. Mark at night. The roof and part of the façade gleam a greenish silver in the moonlight. The shadow of the Campanile falls, black and broad, across the huge square, which is crowded with people listening to the Military Band, and taking coffee, &c., outside the caffés. Miss TROTTER and CULCHARD are seated at one of the little tables in front of the Quadri.
Miss T. I'd like ever so much to know why it is you're so anxious to see that Miss PRENDERGAST and me friendly again? After she's been treating you this long while like you were a toad—and not a popular kind of toad at that!
Culch. (wincing). Of course I am only too painfully aware of—of a certain distance in her manner towards me, but I should not think of allowing myself to be influenced by any—er—merely personal considerations of that sort.
Miss T. That's real noble! And I presume, now, you cann't imagine any reason why she's been treading you so flat.
Culch. (with a shrug). I really haven't troubled to speculate Who can tell how one may, quite unconsciously, give offence—even to those who are—er—comparative strangers?
Miss T. Just so. (A pause.) Well, Mr. CULCHARD, if I wanted anything to confirm my opinion of you, I guess you've given it me!