She was so pale and exquisite and sad that Nino could hardly look at her.

He remembered that there were violets, rarest of flowers in Rome in January, in her belt.
To tell the truth, Nino had expected to find her stern and cold, whereas she was only very quiet and sorrowful.
"Will you forgive me, signorina, for this rashness ?" he asked, in a low voice.
"In that I receive you I forgive you, sir," she said.

He glanced toward De Pretis, who seemed absorbed in some music at the piano and was playing over bits of an accompaniment.

She understood, and moved slowly to a window at the other end of the great room, standing among the curtains.

He placed himself in the embrasure.