For in the expansion of sympathy she enjoyed so much it all at once seemed to her that she could never marry any one but Bosio, who understood her so well, who anticipated what she was going to say, and knew beforehand what she thought upon almost any subject of conversation.
She had never been exactly opposed to the idea, from the first; but now it took possession of her strongly, as it had never done before, and she might almost have taken her genuine affection for the man for love, if she had ever been taught to suppose that love was necessary before marriage.

She had been far too carefully brought up in Italian ideas of the old school, however, to make any such self-examination necessary.
She had been told that it was important that she should like and respect the man she was to marry.

She had no reason for not respecting Bosio, so far as she knew, and she certainly liked him very much indeed.
But she meant to wait until the evening, and give herself a chance to change her mind once more.

After luncheon there was the usual adjournment to another room for coffee, over which the two men smoked cigarettes.

Veronica expected that Matilde would ask her by a gesture, or a word in a low tone, whether she were any nearer to a conclusion than before, but the countess did nothing of the sort, for she was far too wise; and Veronica was grateful for being left entirely to her own thoughts in the matter.