Rowland vented his confusion in dealing a rap with his stick at the animal's unmelodious muzzle, and then rapidly left the house.

He saw Mrs.Light's carriage waiting at the door, and heard afterwards that Christina went home to dinner.
A couple of days later he went, for a fortnight, to Florence.

He had twenty minds to leave Italy altogether; and at Florence he could at least more freely decide upon his future movements.

He felt profoundly, incurably disgusted.

Reflective benevolence stood prudently aside, and for the time touched the source of his irritation with no softening side-lights.
It was the middle of March, and by the middle of March in Florence the spring is already warm and deep.