"You won't have it?" she asked.

He gave her his usual negative, again stepping full into the sun.

"Well, then, I shall eat it. You say a dolce is for women!"

"Si, Signorina," he answered, quite seriously.

She began to devour it slowly, while the boy drew the cigarette smoke
into his lungs voluptuously.

"And you are only sixteen?" she asked.

"Si, Signorina."

"As young as I am! But you look almost a man."

"Signorina, I have always worked. I am a man."

He squared his shoulders. She liked the determination, the resolution
in his face; and she liked the face, too. He was a very handsome boy,
she thought, but somehow he did not look quite Neapolitan. His eyes
lacked the round and staring impudence characteristic of many
Neapolitans she had seen. There was something at times impassive in
their gaze. In shape they were long, and slightly depressed at the
corners by the cheeks, and they had full, almost heavy, lids. The
features of the boy were small and straight, and gave no promise of
eventual coarseness. He was splendidly made. When Vere looked at him
she thought of an arrow. Yet he was very muscular, and before he dived