so that they hid her brown woollen ankles as she took her seat, and with
the other hand she threw back the end of the kerchief from her face.

"You do not mind telling me your name?" said the Superintendent in a
questioning tone.

"Spalletta Regina," answered the girl promptly, putting her family name
first, according to Italian custom. "I am of Rocca di Papa."

"Thank you. I shall remember that. And you say that you know this poor
young man. Now, what is his name, if you please? He does not seem able
to remember anything about himself."

"I have always called him Marcello," answered Regina.

"Indeed? You call him Marcello? Yes, yes. Thank you. But, you know, we
like to write down the full name of each patient in our books. Marcello,
and then? What else?"

By this time Regina felt quite at her ease with the pleasant-spoken
gentleman, but in a flash it occurred to her that he would think it very
strange if she could not answer such a simple question about a young man
she professed to know very well.

"His name is Botti," she said, with no apparent hesitation, and giving
the first name that occurred to her.

"Thank you. I shall enter him in the books as 'Botti Marcello.'"

"Yes. That is the name." She watched the Superintendent's pen, though