Here they would be having lunch. The title had formerly been held by Gianfrancesco’s brother, Alessia, now dead of plague. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. As if we didn’t know! The practical trouble is our ages. While he was swinging in mid air, Thames regarded his uncle with a stern look, and cried in a menacing voice, "We shall meet again. “Where is she?” He would yell even louder until she was sure that people in faraway fishing boats could probably hear him. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her.
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