. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. “This is not every day. ” She stopped short. “You were booked of course. “I feared we might have a fog. James’ Park?” Anna nodded, and made a careful selection from a dish of quails. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. . He backed away from her. That will be a fine day—it will have to be, when first you set eyes on Italy. ’ He laughed. That is why I called myself Anna. It's infernally provoking. I wonder,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “whether you ever realize how young you are.
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