“You won’t, poor dear, you won’t!” she cried brokenly.
She drew him down on to the chaise-longue beside her. He laid his head upon her shoulder.
“Torrigiani will not be in Florence,” she explained, leaning her cheek against the thick, soft hair. “He expects to go direct to Sicily. If he were to be there I should not want to go. It would be too humiliating.”
“Does he know? Have you told him about us?” There was a throb of incredulous joy in Alexis’ voice.
“Yes.” Her head drooped beneath the crimson stain that surged up to her forehead.
“Oh, Anne, can you ever forgive me?”
“Yes, dear. Only don’t try me too often. Just take me for granted sometimes.”
“Oh, I mean to, God knows. Only I’m so afraid of losing you. There are so many men in your life. And I am tied.” She laid commanding fingers upon his lips.
“That subject is taboo! Don’t you dare bring it up again! But tell me how did you know about Torrigiani!” she inquired with a certain curiosity. Had the probing blue orbs belonged to Mme. Petrovskey after all?
“My mother told me,” he replied simply. “She saw you go out together. She came behind to see me afterward. However, I scarcely believed her. I thought she must have mistaken some one else for you. She had only seen you once, you know. But when I arrived, and you hadn’t come, I suddenly knew it was all true. I wanted to strangle poor old Regina and her congratulations. That was almost an hour ago. I was just thinking of going when you came.”