I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers. She’s a snob. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. You know, I’ve done no work at all this afternoon. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned.
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