[To
GERTRUDE.] You are here with--your mother, I understand.
GERTRUDE. My brother.
ST. OLPHERTS. Brother. Now do tell me whether you find your--your
little hotel comfortable.
GERTRUDE. [Looking at him steadily.] We don't stay at one.
ST. OLPHERTS. Apartments?
GERTRUDE. Yes.
ST. OLPHERTS. Do you know, dear Mrs. Thorpe, I have always had the very
strongest desire to live in lodgings in Venice?
GERTRUDE. You should gratify it. Our quarters are rather humble; we are
in the Campo San Bartolomeo.
ST. OLPHERTS. But how delightful!
GERTRUDE. Why not come and see our rooms?
ST. OLPHERTS. [Bowing.] My dear young lady! [Producing a pencil and
writing upon his shirt-cuff.] Campo San Bartolomeo--
GERTRUDE. Five--four--nought--two
ST. OLPHERTS. [Writing.] Five--four--nought--two. Tomorrow
afternoon? [She inclines her head.] Four o'clock?
GERTRUDE. Yes; that would give the people ample time to tidy and clear
up after us.
ST. OLPHERTS. After you--?
GERTRUDE. After our departure. My brother and I leave early tomorrow
morning.
ST. OLPHERTS. [After a brief pause, imperturbably.] A thousand thanks.
May I impose myself so far upon you as to ask you to tell your landlord
to expect me? [Taking up his hat and stick.] We are allowing this soup
to get cold.
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