"My precious child, how you do run on!" murmured Mrs. Light.
"It is Mr. Mallet," the young girl answered. "I can't talk a word of
sense so long as he is in the room. I don't say that to make you go,"
she added, "I say it simply to justify myself."
Rowland bowed in silence. Roderick declared that he must get at work and
requested Christina to take her usual position, and Mrs. Light proposed
to her visitor that they should adjourn to her boudoir. This was a
small room, hardly more spacious than an alcove, opening out of the
drawing-room and having no other issue. Here, as they entered, on a
divan near the door, Rowland perceived the Cavaliere Giacosa, with his
arms folded, his head dropped upon his breast, and his eyes closed.
"Sleeping at his post!" said Rowland with a kindly laugh.
"That 's a punishable offense," rejoined Mrs. Light, sharply. She was on
the point of calling him, in the same tone, when he suddenly opened his
eyes, stared a moment, and then rose with a smile and a bow.
"Excuse me, dear lady," he said, "I was overcome by the--the great
heat."
"Nonsense, Cavaliere!" cried the lady, "you know we are perishing here
with the cold! You had better go and cool yourself in one of the other
rooms.
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