Travelling, or something, I
fancy. He was always a rolling stone, as you know. But he'll come round,
you'll see. Oh, Lord, yes. He'll sulk out his devil--and be the first to
apologise. Well--never mind old Nevile. You'll see, one of these days.
Now, I say, what are you doing with yourself up here? Any good?"
She named her Italian studies, and made him open his eyes.
"Italian? _Tante grazie_, and all that! But that don't take you very far,
you know. Your teeth will crack a tougher nut. Now, I'll tell you what you
do. You come and see my old Aunt Wenman--"
She was highly amused. "Why should I see your old Aunt Wenman? Does she
know Italian?"
"Italian! God bless you, if she knows English, it's as much as she does.
Learnt the Catechism once, I s'pose. She's a good old sort--Lady Maria
Wenman, widow of my old Uncle Charles, and my mother's sister at that.
She'll take to you--she'll take to you."
"I don't see--" said Sanchia, puzzled. The youth explained.
"Well, you see--you'll forgive me, I know--it's _tone_ you want just now.
She'll give you that. She's something to pull against. You get your back
up against her, and hang on. That's the ticket. She's a good soul, is Aunt
Maria--lots of tone--gives parties to all and sundry.
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