“I love Gemma, and intend to marry her.”
“Surely not without a very clear knowledge of her past?”
“Already I have decided to make her my wife,” Armytage said, his face set and pale. “What the police may allege will not influence me in any way.”
“Ah! I fear you are hopelessly infatuated,” Hutchinson observed.
“Yes, hopelessly.”
“Then I suppose you will leave Leghorn with her? That she must go is absolutely imperative. In that case if I may advise you, I should certainly not only leave Leghorn, but leave Italy altogether.”
“What!” he cried indignantly. “Will the police of Milan or Venice act in the same cowardly way that they have done here?”
“Most probably. When she leaves, the police will without doubt take good care to know her destination, and inform the authorities of the next town she enters. Your only plan is to leave Italy.”
“Thanks for your advice,” the other replied in a despondent tone. “Loving her as I do, what you have just told me, and what you have hinted, have upset me and destroyed my peace of mind. I fear I’m not quite myself, and must apologise for any impatient words I have used. I shall act upon your suggestion, and leave Italy.” Then he paused, but after a few moments raised his head, saying—
“You have been good enough to give me friendly advice upon many points; may I encroach upon your good nature still further? Tell me, do you think it wise to acquaint her with the facts you have told me?” Hutchinson looked at the man before him, and saw how hopelessly he was in love. He had seen them driving together, and had long ago noticed how beautiful his companion was.