human
Ah well--poor Sicily person! said Margaret, as they took their places in the carriage.
gpt
I know just what you will do with him. You will write down his name in a memorandum-book, so as not to forget it; you will safely burn his poor letter, as you have safely burned so many others; and you will go gently on to Brittany without even taking the ashes!
human
Keep it for me! said Mrs. Lovell, suddenly, drawing the letter from her pocket and placing it in Margaret's hand.
gpt
Yes, she repeated, enjoying her idea and dwelling upon it, delighted to find that she possessed a little fancy of her own, after all,
human
Very well, said Margaret, amused by this little unexpected flight.
gpt
But as I may go back to America also, I want to be quite sure where I stand. Did you happen to mention to this Sicily person my name, or anything about me?
human
No, replied Mrs. Lovell, promptly.
gpt
We did not talk on such subjects, you know.
human
And he had no idea that you were to stop in Florence?
gpt
No; he supposed I was to take the steamer at Naples for Marseilles. You need not be so scrupulous; everything is quite safe.
human
And when shall I return the epistle?
gpt
When I ask for it,
human
Margaret of Fiesole as she sat on a small, faded purple satin sofa, listening, rather frowningly, to the rippling movement that follows the march in Beethoven's sonata, opus twenty-six; she had never liked that rippling movement, she did not pretend to like it now. Her frown, however, was slight--merely a little line between her dark eyebrows; it gave her the appearance of attention rather than of disapprobation. The
gpt
Margaret of Fiesole had looked like an animated, almost merry, young girl; the
human
Miss Stowe of the reception appeared older than she really was, and her face wore an expression of proud reserve, which, although veiled by all the conventional graciousness required by society, was not on that account any the less apparent. She was richly dressed; but the general effect of her attire was that of simplicity. She fanned herself slowly with a large fan, whose sticks were of carved amber, and the upper part of soft gray ostrich plumes, curled; closed or open, as she used it or as it lay beside her, this fan was an object of beauty. As the music ceased a lady came fluttering across the room, and, with a whispered
gpt
Permit me,
human
He understands _everything_ about old pictures, and you know how ignorant _I_ am! said this lady, half closing her eyes, and shaking her ringleted head with an air of abnegation.