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During the last few months she had
changed and developed greatly, and now looked a
grown-up young woman, though the dense black
plaits still hung down her back in school-girl
fashion. She was dressed all in black, and had
thrown a black scarf over her head, as the room
was cold and draughty. At her breast was a spray
of cypress, the emblem of Young Italy. The
initiator was passionately describing to her the
misery of the Calabrian peasantry; and she sat
listening silently, her chin resting on one hand
and her eyes on the ground. To Arthur she
seemed a melancholy vision of Liberty mourning
for the lost Republic. (Julia would have seen in
her only an overgrown hoyden, with a sallow complexion,
an irregular nose, and an old stuff frock
that was too short for her.)
"You here, Jim!" he said, coming up to her
when the initiator had been called to the other end
of the room. "Jim" was a childish corruption of
her curious baptismal name: Jennifer. Her Italian
schoolmates called her "Gemma.


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