Giovanna had found a temporary home in one of those boardinghouses
which abound in the neighbourhood of the west-central squares. But
already she had begun to meditate a change. The demands on her purse
were too many and, as it seemed to her, too exorbitant. Should she
decide to stay in London, she must find cheaper rooms and make up her
mind to live more economically in many ways. But just then she could
not make up her mind to anything. She was a very lonely and a very
miserable woman; indeed, the loneliness of her life sometimes appalled
her. There were a number of other boarders in the house, and in the
general drawing-room of an evening there was no lack of company of both
sexes and of nearly all ages. But Giovanna, who had always been of a
reserved and retiring disposition, had an utter distaste for
associating with a mixed lot of people, with not one of whom she had
anything in common, and, as soon as dinner was over, invariably went
upstairs to her own sitting-room on the third floor. In the forenoons,
when the weather was fine, she took long, solitary walks, sometimes in
the Regents Park, sometimes through the miles of West End shops, but
rarely pausing to glance into a window. Invariably dressed in black,
and with the upper half of her face closely veiled, but leaving visible
the firm and beautiful contours of the mouth and chin, her tall and
stately form drew many eyes to it as she slowly threaded her way
through the crowd of promenaders, so obviously indifferent to everyone
and everything around her. There was about her, or so it seemed, an air
of mystery, of romance even, which many of those who turned to gaze
after her would have given something to be able to penetrate.
On a certain morning, just as Giovanna was getting ready to go for her
usual walk, a message was brought her that there was a gentleman below
who was desirous of seeing her. In the belief that it must be either
her uncle or Luigi, they being the only visitors she had, she requested
the servant to show him upstairs.
A minute later John Clare walked into the room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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