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. “She’s all right. The old lady in the antimacassar said, abruptly, “Ah! you young people, you young people, if you only knew!” and then laughed and then mused in a marked manner; and the young man with the narrow forehead and glasses cleared his throat and asked the young man in the orange tie whether he believed that Platonic love was possible. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now.
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