"And a lovely place."
"Yes."
Then a bird sang.
"You have been here just eight weeks," said the signorino.
"I have been very happy."
He did not speak for a minute or two, and then he said:—
"Would you like to live here always?"
"Ah, yes! But that is impossible."
He took her hand and turned her gently so that her face was in the light.
"Dear Mees Goneril, why is it impossible?"