“I would like to go home,” she cried, “to please her. Capes agreed with the utmost cordiality. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. ‘Go then. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following DRINKING SONG.
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