The company had risen to its feet; Daisy, still showing her pretty teeth,
bent over and kissed her hostess. "Mrs. Walker, you are too perfect,"
she said. "I'm not going alone; I am going to meet a friend."
"Your friend won't keep you from getting the fever,"
Mrs. Miller observed.
"Is it Mr. Giovanelli?" asked the hostess.
Winterbourne was watching the young girl; at this question his
attention quickened. She stood there, smiling and smoothing
her bonnet ribbons; she glanced at Winterbourne. Then, while she
glanced and smiled, she answered, without a shade of hesitation,
"Mr. Giovanelli--the beautiful Giovanelli."
"My dear young friend," said Mrs. Walker, taking her hand pleadingly,
"don't walk off to the Pincio at this hour to meet a beautiful Italian."
"Well, he speaks English," said Mrs. Miller.
"Gracious me!" Daisy exclaimed, "I don't to do anything improper.
There's an easy way to settle it." She continued to glance at Winterbourne.
"The Pincio is only a hundred yards distant; and if Mr. Winterbourne
were as polite as he pretends, he would offer to walk with me!"
Winterbourne's politeness hastened to affirm itself,
and the young girl gave him gracious leave to accompany her.
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