Part 40 (1/2)

”Oh, allow me to carry them, Miss Houghton. He is not fit--” said Max.

True, Ciccio had no collar on, and his shoes were burst.

”I don't mind,” said Alvina hastily. ”He knows where they go. He brought them before.”

”But I will carry them. I am dressed. Allow me--” and he began to take the things. ”You get dressed, Ciccio.”

Ciccio looked at Alvina.

”Do you want?” he said, as if waiting for orders.

”Do let Ciccio take them,” said Alvina to Max. ”Thank you _ever_ so much. But let him take them.”

So Alvina marched off through the Sunday morning streets, with the Italian, who was down at heel and enc.u.mbered with an armful of sick-room apparatus. She did not know what to say, and he said nothing.

”We will go in this way,” she said, suddenly opening the hall door.

She had unlocked it before she went out, for that entrance was hardly ever used. So she showed the Italian into the sombre drawing-room, with its high black bookshelves with rows and rows of calf-bound volumes, its old red and flowered carpet, its grand piano littered with music. Ciccio put down the things as she directed, and stood with his cap in his hands, looking aside.

”Thank you so much,” she said, lingering.

He curled his lips in a faint deprecatory smile.

”Nothing,” he murmured.

His eye had wandered uncomfortably up to a portrait on the wall.

”That was my mother,” said Alvina.

He glanced down at her, but did not answer.

”I am so sorry you're going away,” she said nervously. She stood looking up at him with wide blue eyes.

The faint smile grew on the lower part of his face, which he kept averted. Then he looked at her.

”We have to move,” he said, with his eyes watching her reservedly, his mouth twisting with a half-bashful smile.

”Do you like continually going away?” she said, her wide blue eyes fixed on his face.

He nodded slightly.

”We have to do it. I like it.”

What he said meant nothing to him. He now watched her fixedly, with a slightly mocking look, and a reserve he would not relinquish.

”Do you think I shall ever see you again?” she said.

”Should you like--?” he answered, with a sly smile and a faint shrug.

”I should like awfully--” a flush grew on her cheek. She heard Miss Pinnegar's scarcely audible step approaching.