Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part one - IV
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“I came from Florence this morning,” said Francesca,
imitating him, and laughed. “Ugh! If he had come by
aeroplane at least.”
“You were exceedingly rude to him, my dear. It won’t do.
I should have liked to ask him here tonight, but I dared not
because of you. I could not take the risk of your being
discourteous to him when he was our guest.”
“No fear of that. You know that quite well.” Francesca
was hurt.
“Do you remember that time when Douglas came home with
me to tea?”
“Yes, after that model business, but that was quite a
different matter.”
“Nonsense. It was no concern of yours.”
“Wasn’t it? When he had proposed to me and I had very
nearly accepted him.”
“How could he know?” said Jenny.
“Anyway, I had not quite said no, and the day before I had
been with him to Versailles. He kissed me there several times
and lay with his head in my lap, and when I told him I didn’t
care for him he didn’t believe me.”
“It is not right, Cesca.” Jenny caught her eye in the mirror.
“You are the dearest little girl in the world when you use your
brains, but sometimes it seems as if you had no idea you are
dealing with living beings, with people who have feelings that
you must respect. You would respect them if you were not
so thoughtless, for I know you only want to be good and kind.”
“Per Bacco. Don’t be too sure of that. But I must show
you some roses. Ahlin bought me quite a load this afternoon
at a Spanish stairs.” Cesca smiled defiantly.
“You ought to stop that kind of thing, I think — if only
because you know he cannot afford it.”
“I don’t care. If he is in love with me, I suppose he likes
it.”
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