I stopped. Remembering why I had not told Penelope, I deemed it wiser
to be evasive. I remembered, too, that in my joy at seeing her again I
had been taking it for granted that she was still Penelope Blight. The
gulf between us, which had been closing so fast, yawned again. "Tell
me," said I in undisguised eagerness, "are you married, Penelope?"
Then she laughed, and in the gay ring of her laughter, I read her
answer. She stepped back to a stone bench and seated herself, and I
took a place beside her, watching as she made circles in the sand with
the point of her parasol. There were a thousand commonplace questions
that I might have asked her, but I was contented with the silence. It
mattered little to me how she came there. It was enough that she was
at my side. It mattered little to me that Bennett and his brother
might have settled their dispute long since and be hunting for me, for
I had made my farewell to them. I was home. I intended to stay at
home. So I, too, fell to making circles in the sand, with my stick.
Then Penelope looked up and asked me: "David, how do you come to be
here, in this out-of-the-way Italian town? I thought you were in the
Sudan. Uncle Rufus told me that you were in the Sudan. That is how I
happened to hear it. He always insists on reading to me everything of
yours he can find--rather bores me, in fact, sometimes--not, of course,
that I haven't been interested in what you were doing."
She spoke so coldly that I feared that, after all, I had best go my way
with Bennett and his brother. I told her how I had travelled with
them, and how the motor had broken down, and how my finding her was by
the barest chance, for in a few hours I should have been on my way to
Florence.
"It's strange," she said. "Our motor broke down, too, last night--just
as we reached the gates; but this afternoon we hope to be off again to
Rome."
"We?" I questioned.
"Uncle Rufus and I," she said.
"And Mrs. Bannister?"
"Married a year ago to a rich broker," she answered, laughing.
"How long I have been away!" I exclaimed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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