|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 82
"Then there are four of you?"
"Yes. My friend and I found we couldn't afford it by ourselves."
"Oh, I say--" began Briggs in confusion, for he would best have
liked Rose Arbuthnot--pretty name--not to have to afford anything, but
to stay at San Salvatore as long as she liked as his guest.
"Mrs. Fisher is having coffee in the top garden," said Rose.
"I'll take you to her and introduce you."
"I don't want to go. You've got your hat on, so you were going
for a walk. Mayn't I come too? I'd immensely like being shown round
by you."
"But Mrs. Fisher is waiting for you."
"Won't she keep?"
"Yes," said Rose, with the smile that had so much attracted him
the first day. "I think she will keep quite well till tea."
"Do you speak Italian?"
"No," said Rose. "Why?"
On that he turned to Francesca, and told her at a great rate, for
in Italian he was glib, to go back to the Signora in the top garden and
tell her he had encountered his old friend the Signora Arbuthnot, and
was going for a walk with her and would present himself to her later.
"Do you invite me to tea?" he asked Rose, when Francesca had
gone.
"Of course. It's your house."
"It isn't. It's yours."
"Till Monday week," she smiled.
"Come and show me all the views," he said eagerly; and it was
plain, even to the self-depreciatory Rose, that she did not bore Mr.
Briggs.
Chapter 18
They had a very pleasant walk, with a great deal of sitting down
in warm, thyme-fragrant corners, and if anything could have helped Rose
to recover from the bitter disappointment of the morning it would have
been the company and conversation of Mr. Briggs. He did help her to
recover, and the same process took place as that which Lotty had
undergone with her husband, and the more Mr. Briggs thought Rose
charming the more charming she became.
Briggs was a man incapable of concealments, who never lost time
if he could help it. They had not got to the end of the headland where
the lighthouse is--Briggs asked her to show him the lighthouse, because
the path to it, he knew, was wide enough for two to walk abreast and
fairly level--before he had told her of the impression she made on him
in London.
Since even the most religious, sober women like to know they have
made an impression, particularly the kind that has nothing to do with
character or merits, Rose was pleased. Being pleased, she smiled.
Smiling, she was more attractive than ever. Colour came into her
cheeks, and brightness into her eyes. She heard herself saying things
that really sounded quite interesting and even amusing. If Frederick
were listening now, she thought, perhaps he would see that she couldn't
after all be such a hopeless bore; for here was a man, nice-looking,
young, and surely clever--he seemed clever, and she hoped he was, for
then the compliment would be still greater--who was evidently quite
happy to spend the afternoon just talking to her.
And indeed Mr. Briggs seemed very much interested. He wanted to
hear all about everything she had been doing from the moment she got
there. He asked her if she had seen this, that, and the other in the
house, what she liked best, which room she had, if she were
comfortable, if Francesca was behaving, if Domenico took care of her,
and whether she didn't enjoy using the yellow sitting-room--the one
that got all the sun and looked out towards Genoa.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|