“Number nine in the Viale,” replied the Countess promptly, with her slight American accent. “Second floor. Where did you meet them?”
“In England. I returned from London only last night.”
“I don’t think they are here,” she said. “The week we arrived at the villa, nearly two months ago, Lucie called and said that they were going to spend the summer up at Roncegno, in the Trentino, a place that is becoming quite fashionable with the Italians. They left Leghorn, and I haven’t seen them since.”
“I believe they are back,” I said. “Anyhow I will leave a card.”
“Because the handsome Lucie has attracted you, eh?” asked the Countess, laughing mischievously.
“Not at all,” I protested. “I’m a confirmed bachelor, as you’ve known long ago.”
“Ah! men always say so,” she remarked. “Why do you take such an intense interest in Milner and his daughter?”
“Because they were kind to me in England,” I replied briefly.
“Well—he’s a peculiar man,” she said. “They have very few friends, I believe. He’s a gentleman, no doubt, but in very reduced circumstances. My own idea is that when Lucie’s dresses are paid for he has very great difficulty in making both ends meet. He’s a bit of a mystery, they say.”
“You surprise me,” I said. “I had no idea he was as poor as that.”