Now and then a few words, sung in deep, soft notes, sad as the south wind, floated through the room, and then she and Ghisleri talked about the song, paying no attention whatever to the pair on the sofa.
Gianluca sighed and caught his breath.

Veronica glanced quickly at him, and then looked again at the top of Ghisleri's head, as the latter bent down.

She had not thought that she had expected so much of the meeting.
She certainly had not the slightest personal feeling for the man beside her.

And yet, somehow, she was dismally disappointed.

If this was the man who was dying of love, she infinitely preferred Bosio Macomer.
Gianluca was evidently in bad health.