“Good. Is your lovely wife and are the children well?”
“Absolutely, and they asked me to remember them to you if I saw you. They’re down in Rome. There comes your girl. Or one of your girls.” He was so tall he could see into the now almost dark street, but this was a girl you could recognize if it was much darker than it was at this hour.
“Ask her to have a drink with us here before you carry her off to that corner table. Isn’t she a lovely girl?”
“She is.”
Then she came into the room, shining in her youth and tall striding beauty, and the carelessness the wind had made of her hair. She had pale, almost olive colored skin, a profile that could break your, or any one else’s heart, and her dark hair, of an alive texture, hung down over her shoulders.
“Hello, my great beauty,” the Colonel said.
“Oh, oh, hello,” she said. “I thought I would miss you. I am so sorry to be late.”
Her voice was low and delicate and she spoke English with caution.
“Ciao, Andrea,” she said. “How is Emily and are the children?”
“Probably just the same as when I answered that same question for you at noon.”
“I am so sorry,” she said and blushed. “I am so excited and I always say the wrong things. What should I say? Have you had a good time here all afternoon?”
“Yes,” said Andrea. “With my old friend and severest critic.”
