Chapter XVIII
An Italian Son
There were times when Gino’s sweetness and childlikeness made the sense of danger in his love seem grotesque, and in February something happened which bound them together with a closeness which though sad was preciously dear and secure.
One evening he arrived a little late and apologized for being still in his afternoon clothes.
“Mama is not well,” he explained, “and I could not leave her a moment before I came to you.”
Anne drew him to the sofa beside her.
“I can see that you are anxious,” she said. “Is she actually ill?”
“Only a cold. The doctor says there is nothing to fear—but I fear,” he added, after a slight pause.
That evening he was especially quiet and gentle, talking with her much about practical arrangements for their future together. With her money and his they would not be very rich, but they would have enough to live comfortably in Italy, and occupy an185
