"The rose is prettier than the owner," she said; "and, at any rate,
one thing at a time, Mr. Martin! Do you pay your servants all their
wages in advance?"
My practice was so much the contrary that I really couldn't deny the
force of her reasoning. She held out the rose. I seized it and pressed
it close to my lips, thereby squashing it considerably.
"Dear me," said the signorina, "I wonder if I had given you the other
thing whether you would have treated it so roughly."
"I'll show you in a moment," said I.
"Thank you, no, not just now," she said, showing no alarm, for she
knew she was safe with me. Then she said abruptly:
"Are you a Constitutionalist or a Liberal, Mr. Martin?"
I must explain that, in the usual race for the former title, the
President's party had been first at the post, and the colonel's
gang (as I privately termed it) had to put up with the alternative
designation. Neither name bore any relation to facts.
"Are we going to talk politics?" said I reproachfully.
"Yes, a little; you see we got to an _impasse_ on the other topic.
Tell me."
"Which are you, signorina?" I asked.
I really wanted to know; so did a great many people.
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