His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust. “I first saw you crossing the river Arno, after a spring rain had spoiled the day for everyone except the ducks. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. ‘Though we might have done, if a certain addlepated clothhead hadn’t let her get away. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl.
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