"And the murderer tried to kiss him, you say--how very odd Italians are!--and gave himself up to the police! Mr. Beebe was saying that Italians know everything, but I think they are rather childish. When my cousin and I were at the Pitti yesterday--What was that?"
He had thrown something into the stream.
"What did you throw in?"
"Things I didn't want," he said crossly.
"Mr. Emerson!"
"Well?"
"Where are the photographs?"
He was silent.
"I believe it was my photographs that you threw away."
"I didn't know what to do with them," he cried, and his voice was that of an anxious boy. Her heart warmed towards him for the first time. "They were covered with blood. There! I'm glad I've told you; and all the time we were making conversation I was wondering what to do with them." He pointed down-stream. "They've gone." The river swirled under the bridge, "I did mind them so, and one is so foolish, it seemed better that they should go out to the sea--I don't know; I may just mean that they frightened me." Then the boy verged into a man. "For something tremendous has happened; I must face it without getting muddled. It isn't exactly that a man has died."
Something warned Lucy that she must stop him.
"It has happened," he repeated, "and I mean to find out what it is."
"Mr. Emerson--"
He turned towards her frowning, as if she had disturbed him in some abstract quest.
"I want to ask you something before we go in."
They were close to their pension. She stopped and leant her elbows against the parapet of the embankment. He did likewise. There is at times a magic in identity of position; it is one of the things that have suggested to us eternal comradeship. She moved her elbows before saying: "I have behaved ridiculously."
He was following his own thoughts.
"I was never so much ashamed of myself in my life; I cannot think what came over me."
"I nearly fainted myself," he said; but she felt that her attitude repelled him.
"Well, I owe you a thousand apologies."
"Oh, all right."
"And--this is the real point--you know how silly people are gossiping--ladies especially, I am afraid--you understand what I mean?"
"I'm afraid I don't."
"I mean, would you not mention it to any one, my foolish behaviour?"