“ Why, Angus,” came the graceful voice of Francis, “I thought we had settled to go straight through via Pisa.” Francis was graceful in everything—in his tall, elegant figure, in the poses of his handsome head, in the modulation of his voice.
“ Yes, but I see we can go either way—either Pisa or Florence. And I thought it might be nice to look at Florence and Sienna and Orvieto. I believe they're very lovely,” came the soft, precise voice of Angus, ending in a touch of odd emotion on the words “very lovely,” as if it were a new experience to him to be using them.
“ I'm SURE they're marvellous. I'm quite sure they're marvellously beautiful,” said Francis, in his assured, elegant way. “Well, then, Angus—suppose we do that, then?—When shall we start?”
Angus was the nervous insister. Franc
