“No,” he answered at last. “If you intend to marry her, there is really no necessity for demanding an immediate explanation. But as soon as you are out of Italy, and you have an opportunity, I should certainly invite her to tell you the whole truth.”
Then, after some further conversation, the two men shook hands, and Charles Armytage slowly made his way downstairs and out across the wide, sunlit Piazza.
From the window Consul Hutchinson watched his retreating figure, and noticed how self-absorbed he was as he strode along. His heart had gone out to sympathise in this brief interview, and a strong desire came upon him to help and protect the lonely Englishman. “Poor devil!” he muttered, “he’s badly hit, and I fear he has a troublous time before him. I wish to God I could help him.”
Chapter Ten.
The Mystery of Gemma.
When Armytage entered Gemma’s pretty salon, the window of which commanded a wide view of the blue Mediterranean, she rose quickly from the silken divan with a glad cry of welcome. She was veiled and gloved ready to go out, wearing a smart costume of pearl grey, with a large black hat which suited her fair face admirably.
“How late you are!” she exclaimed a trifle impetuously, pouting prettily as their lips met. “You said eleven o’clock, and it’s now nearly one.”
“I’ve had a good deal to see after,” he stammered. “Business worries from London.”