a pretty American girl coming and standing in front of you in a garden.
This pretty American girl, however, on hearing Winterbourne's observation,
simply glanced at him; she then turned her head and looked over the parapet,
at the lake and the opposite mountains. He wondered whether he had gone
too far, but he decided that he must advance farther, rather than retreat.
While he was thinking of something else to say, the young lady turned
to the little boy again.

"I should like to know where you got that pole," she said.

"I bought it," responded Randolph.

"You don't mean to say you're going to take it to Italy?"

"Yes, I am going to take it to Italy," the child declared.

The young girl glanced over the front of her dress and smoothed out a knot
or two of ribbon. Then she rested her eyes upon the prospect again.
"Well, I guess you had better leave it somewhere," she said after a moment.

"Are you going to Italy?" Winterbourne inquired in a tone
of great respect.

The young lady glanced at him again. "Yes, sir," she replied.
And she said nothing more.

"Are you--a-- going over the Simplon?" Winterbourne pursued,
a little embarrassed.

"I don't know," she said. "I suppose it's some mountain.