"_All' ill.'mo Sig.'r paron
ossevnd.'mo.... All' ill.'mo et ecc.'mo Sig.'r paron... All' ill'mo et
R.R.d.'mo Sig.'r, Sig.'r Pio. Francesco Bembo, Vesco et Conte di
Belluno_"--thus ran the faded brown lines on the flyleaf, in their
solicitous currying of favor; but these reiterated forms of address
conveyed no meaning to Cope, and offered no opening: now, as once before,
he let the matter wait.
Randolph thought over Cope's statement of his plans, and his slight touch
of pique did not pass away. Toward the end of the evening, he spoke of the
wreck and the rescue, after all.
"Well," he said, "you are not so completely committed as I feared."
"Committed?"
"By your new household arrangements."
"Well, I shall have back my chum."
Randolph put forward the alternative.
"I was afraid, for a moment, that you might be taking a wife."
"A wife?"
"Yes. Such a rescue often leads straight to matrimony--in the story-books,
anyhow."
Cope laughed, but with a slight disrelish. "We're in actual life still, I'm
glad to think. What I said on one stretch of the shore goes on the other,"
he declared.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202