"I will think of it all.

At this time I can easily be alone with Veronica." His voice sounded as though he were speaking to himself, and his head was bent, so that he stooped from the neck as Don Teodoro did.

But the latter, as he walked, his silver-rimmed spectacles balanced on his great nose, thrust his bent head more forward.

Or rather, it was as though his head moved first in the direction he meant to follow, while his thin legs had difficulty in keeping up with it.
Bosio was willing to put off the moment of going home as long as possible, and he accompanied his friend to the door of Don Matteo's lodging, which was in a clean, quiet, sunlit street, behind the Piazza--in one of those oases of light and cleanliness upon which one sometimes comes in the heart of Naples.

The little green door was reached by a couple of steps up from the level of the street.