He had had a simple-
minded, evangelical, lurid view of what the girl he loved would find
herself in for. She could see this now--she could see it from his
present bewilderment and mystification, and she liked him and pitied
him, with the kindest smile, for the original naivete as well as for
the actual meekness. No wonder he hadn't known what she was in for,
since he now didn't even know what he was in for himself. Were there
not moments when he thought his companions almost unnaturally good,
almost suspiciously safe? He had lost all power to verify that
sketch of their isolation and declassement to which she had treated
him on the great square at Milan. The last thing he noticed was that
they were neglected, and he had never, for himself, had such an
impression of society.
It could scarcely be enhanced even by the apparition of a large,
fair, hot, red-haired young man, carrying a lady's fan in his hand,
who suddenly stood before their little party as, on the third evening
after their arrival in Venice, it partook of ices at one of the
tables before the celebrated Cafe Florian. The lamplit Venetian dusk
appeared to have revealed them to this gentleman as he sat with other
friends at a neighbouring table, and he had sprung up, with
unsophisticated glee, to shake hands with Mrs.
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