"
"Kissed her hand? My! . . . Of course she was very angry . . . wasn't
she angry?"
I answered no, and in my simplicity I proceeded to prove this by
explaining that Sister Angela had taken Father Giovanni down to the
door, and when he was ill she had nursed him.
"Nursed him? In his own house, you mean?"
"Yes, at night, too, and she stayed until he was better, and caught a
cold coming back."
"Well, I never!" said Alma, and I remember that I was very pleased with
myself during this interview, for by the moonlight which was then
shining into the room, I could see that Alma's eyes were sparkling.
The next night we recommenced our conferences in bed, when Alma told us
all about her holiday, which she had spent "way up in St. Moritz," among
deep snow and thick ice, skating, bobbing, lugging, and above all riding
astride, and dragging a man on skis behind her.
"Such lots of fun," she said. And the best of it was at night when there
were dances and fancy-dress balls with company which included all the
smart people in Europe, and men who gave a girl such a good time if she
happened to be pretty and was likely to have a dot.
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