"Tell me if Mr. Giovanelli is the right one?"
The gentleman with the nosegay in his bosom had now perceived our two friends,
and was approaching the young girl with obsequious rapidity. He bowed to
Winterbourne as well as to the latter's companion; he had a brilliant smile,
an intelligent eye; Winterbourne thought him not a bad-looking fellow.
But he nevertheless said to Daisy, "No, he's not the right one."
Daisy evidently had a natural talent for performing introductions;
she mentioned the name of each of her companions to the other.
She strolled alone with one of them on each side of her; Mr. Giovanelli,
who spoke English very cleverly--Winterbourne afterward learned
that he had practiced the idiom upon a great many American heiresses--
addressed her a great deal of very polite nonsense; he was extremely
urbane, and the young American, who said nothing, reflected upon
that profundity of Italian cleverness which enables people to appear
more gracious in proportion as they are more acutely disappointed.
Giovanelli, of course, had counted upon something more intimate;
he had not bargained for a party of three.
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