"Mme. Reni!" said Gemma.
Zita's face darkened like a thunder-cloud.
"Madame?" she said, turning and raising her
eyes with a defiant look.
"Would your friends mind speaking a little
more softly? Signor Rivarez is very unwell."
The gipsy flung down her violets. "Allez-vous
en!" she said, turning sharply on the astonished
officers. "Vous m'embetez, messieurs!"
She went slowly out into the road. Gemma
closed the window.
"They have gone away," she said, turning to
him.
"Thank you. I--I am sorry to have troubled
you."
"It was no trouble." He at once detected the
hesitation in her voice.
"'But?'" he said. "That sentence was not
finished, signora; there was an unspoken 'but' in
the back of your mind."
"If you look into the backs of people's minds,
you mustn't be offended at what you read there.
It is not my affair, of course, but I cannot understand----"
"My aversion to Mme. Reni? It is only when----"
"No, your caring to live with her when you feel
that aversion.
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