Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. Ann Veronica sat down in the other arm-chair and darned badly for a minute or so. "You hesitate—you are deceiving me. Her name is Lucia, she works in the Alberti Yarn Shop, across from Florestano the Butcher!” I happily rewarded her with a shiny new Florin and sent her off. He brought another small loaf, and a can with which he replenished the pitcher, recommending Jack to be careful, as he would get nothing further till morning. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance. “Young lady! Are you sure you’re of legal age to be smoking those cigarettes?” “No, I’m not of legal age.
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