hunger of the heart. As she looked at Gaspare, standing by the door in
his dark-blue clothes, with an earnest expression on his strong,
handsome face, she felt as if he must have come just then because he
was conscious that she had so much need of help and consolation. And
she could not answer "no" to his simple question.

"Come in, Gaspare," she said, "and shut the door. I'm all alone. I
should like to have a little talk with you."

He obeyed her, shut the door gently, and came up to her with the
comfortable confidence of one safe in his welcome, desired not merely
as a servant but as a friend by his Padrona.

"Did you want to say anything particular, Gaspare?" Hermione asked
him. "Here--take a cigarette."

She gave him one. He took it gently, twitching his nose as he did so.
This was a little trick he had when he was pleased.

"You can smoke it here, if you like."

"Grazie, Signora."

He lit it gravely and took a whiff. Then he said:

"The Signorina is outside."

"Is she?"

Hermione looked towards the window.