“I arrived from Mexico this morning. I didn’t think you would want to see me, cara. That is why I didn’t let you know. Besides—there are some things a man cannot bear,” he added beneath his breath so that Gerald wouldn’t hear.
“Vittorio!” Her whisper was broken. “I must see you before you go.”
His downcast face suddenly became eager.
“May I go home with you now, then?”
The crimson stain filtered back into her pale cheeks.
“No, Vittorio. I’m afraid not. I—shall not be free,” she finished with a little agonized rush.
The new radiance drained from his face as suddenly as it had come.
“Then we shall have to wait for another trip. Until you come to Florence perhaps?” Repressed suffering harshened his voice.
Humiliated to the point of anguish, she was about to acquiesce, when she encountered his tragic eyes.
“Why can’t you drive home with me? We will take a turn about the park and have a little talk. I—I have a message for your mother.”