But she did not make time to go to Roquebrune, and
show a little graceful gratitude for the cure's kindly interest.
The desire grew stronger in Vanno to speak to her, to know something of
her besides the perhaps deceiving beauty of her face, but he clung in
firmness or obstinacy to the resolve of which he had told his friend. He
knew that he could not help her as the cure might, and secretly he
feared himself. Once the ice was broken in making her acquaintance, he
was not sure that he could still be strong.
But one afternoon he had been taking a long walk alone, as was his
custom every day. Coming down from a Ligurian fort, by an old mule track
that ended on the upper Corniche road, he saw an automobile which had
stopped at the foot of the path. A girl in a rose-red motor-bonnet and a
moleskin coat was standing up in the car, her eyes raised, her chin
lifted like a flower tilted in its stem, intent on something which Vanno
could not see. The girl was Miss Grant, and Vanno's heart gave a bound,
then seemed to contract at sight of her, so near him and alone.
The automobile was drawn up so close to the descending mule path that
Vanno saw it would be impossible to pass unless the chauffeur started
the engine and moved the car on a little; but rather than this should be
necessary, he halted abruptly a few yards above the level of the road.
The rattle of footsteps on rough cobbles roused Mary from her study of
the thing which Vanno could not see. She glanced up, expecting some
peasant who would want to pass her car.
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