CHAPTER XI
THE GENTLEMAN FROM ROME
I knew that my love for Lola was increasing, yet I did not know whether my affection was really reciprocated.
We were close friends, but that was all. I was seated with her in the pretty morning-room one day about a fortnight after my return from Madrid, when the footman entered with a card.
“Mr. Rayne is not in, sir. Will you see the gentleman?”
“Cav. Enrico Graniani—Roma,” was the name upon the card.
“He’s a stranger, sir. I’ve never seen him before,” the servant added.
“I wonder who he is?” asked Lola, looking over my shoulder at the card. “Father doesn’t somehow like strangers, does he?”
“No,” I said. “But I’ll see him. Show him into the library.”
When a few moments later I entered the room I found a tall, elegant, well-dressed Italian who, addressing me in very fair English, said: