She smiled at him tenderly. “I’ll call him, then.”
She walked to the edge of the terrace and beckoned towards the garden. “Vittorio!”
The crystalline tones resounded purely. A tall figure rose from a bench back of the palms and approached them.
“This is my husband, Alexis.” Anne’s voice rang slightly tremulous.
Alexis got to his feet rather feebly and the two men clasped hands. Vittorio was the first to speak.
“I am sorry you are not well,” he said gently, as they all sat down.
Alexis smiled. “That is good of you, Marchese. And it is doubly good of you to permit the Marchesa to see me. I—I am very grateful.” The smiling lips quivered.
Vittorio was touched. The stooping figure, the prematurely haggard young face filled him with pity. He made an effort to speak casually.
“I hope you will let us both come to see you very often. We shall be here for at least six weeks.”
“You don’t know what it will mean to me,” said Alexis eagerly. “I’ve hardly seen a soul for months,” he caught himself up sharply, “but I’m sure you must be thirsty. I’ll order something to drink at once.”