Only when she heard that
Mr. Beebe was also coming did her thanks become more sincere.
"So we shall be a partie carree," said the chaplain. "In these
days of toil and tumult one has great needs of the country and
its message of purity. Andate via! andate presto, presto! Ah,
the town! Beautiful as it is, it is the town."
They assented.
"This very square--so I am told--witnessed yesterday the most
sordid of tragedies. To one who loves the Florence of Dante and
Savonarola there is something portentous in such desecration--
portentous and humiliating."
"Humiliating indeed," said Miss Bartlett. "Miss Honeychurch
happened to be passing through as it happened. She can hardly
bear to speak of it." She glanced at Lucy proudly.
"And how came we to have you here?" asked the chaplain
paternally.
Miss Bartlett's recent liberalism oozed away at the question.
"Do not blame her, please, Mr. Eager. The fault is mine: I left
her unchaperoned."
"So you were here alone, Miss Honeychurch?" His voice suggested
sympathetic reproof but at the same time indicated that a few
harrowing details would not be unacceptable.
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