She looked at
him. A strange kind of trouble--of doubt and wonderment and pain--came
into those soft, dark, expressive eyes.
"You--you not wish to see me, Leo?" she said, rather breathlessly--and
as if she could hardly believe this thing. "I come to London--and you
not glad to see me--"
Quick tears of wounded pride sprang to the long black lashes; but, with
a dignified, even haughty inclination of the head, she turned from him
and put her hand on the handle of the door. At the same instant he
caught her arm.
"Why, Nina, you're just the spoiled child you always were! Ah, your
English doesn't go so far as that; you don't know what a spoiled child
is?--_e la cianciosella_, you Neapolitan girl! Why, of course I'm glad
to see you--I am delighted to see you--but you frightened me, Nina--your
coming like this, alone--"
"I frighten you, Leo?" she said, and a quick laugh shone brightly
through her tears. "Ah, I see--it is that I have no chaperon? But I had
no time--I wished to see you, Leo--I said, 'Leo will understand, and
afterwards I get a chaperon all correctly.' Oh, yes, yes, I know--but
where is the time?--yesterday I go through the streets--it is Leo, Leo
everywhere in the windows--I see you in this costume, in the other
costume--and your name so large, so very large, in the--in the--"
"The theatre-bills? Well, sit down, Nina, and tell me how you come to be
in London.
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