"Is there anyone I know?" she asked.
"I think every one knows you!" said Mrs. Walker pregnantly, and she
gave a very cursory greeting to Mr. Giovanelli. This gentleman bore
himself gallantly. He smiled and bowed and showed his white teeth;
he curled his mustaches and rolled his eyes and performed all
the proper functions of a handsome Italian at an evening party.
He sang very prettily half a dozen songs, though Mrs. Walker afterward
declared that she had been quite unable to find out who asked him.
It was apparently not Daisy who had given him his orders.
Daisy sat at a distance from the piano, and though she had publicly,
as it were, professed a high admiration for his singing, talked,
not inaudibly, while it was going on.
"It's a pity these rooms are so small; we can't dance," she said
to Winterbourne, as if she had seen him five minutes before.
"I am not sorry we can't dance," Winterbourne answered;
"I don't dance."
"Of course you don't dance; you're too stiff," said Miss Daisy.
"I hope you enjoyed your drive with Mrs. Walker!"
"No. I didn't enjoy it; I preferred walking with you.
Pages:
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99