‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. Mrs Sindlesham raised her brows. He said that for him beauty justified life, that he could not imagine a good action that was not a beautiful one nor any beautiful thing that could be altogether bad. He thought her only an orphan in search of her English relatives. The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. You couldn’t help it. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad.
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