” He turned upon her almost fiercely. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. The unequal battle went on. “All the time he is shouting and muttering. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you. Scarcely had it come to a halt, when a stalwart man shouldered his way, in spite of their opposition, through the lines of soldiery to the cart, and offered his large horny hand to the prisoner. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
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