We’ll have some buttered toast. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. Our heads swim with the thought of being together. "She is saying that you, a woman, will readily understand the position in which she finds herself. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. It is perfectly intrusive of me, and I quite see that you must be sick to death of running into such an interfering busybody all the time. The tropical dawn is swift. She hated living like that. Here he was hotly pursued.
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