At the moment of ringing at the door a strong emotion of an anxious kind.

Why?
Down the length of the dining-room in the rotunda part full of afternoon light Dona R., sitting cross-legged on the divan in the attitude of a very old idol or a very young child and surrounded by many cushions, waves her hand from afar pleasantly surprised, exclaiming: "What! Back already!" I give her all the details and we talk for two hours across a large brass bowl containing a little water placed between us, lighting cigarettes and dropping them, innumerable, puffed at, yet untasted in the overwhelming interest of the conversation.

Found her very quick in taking the points and very intelligent in her suggestions.

All formality soon vanished between us and before very long I discovered myself sitting cross-legged, too, while I held forth on the qualities of different Mediterranean sailing craft and on the romantic qualifications of Dominic for the task.
I believe I gave her the whole history of the man, mentioning even the existence of Madame Leonore, since the little cafe would have to be the headquarters of the marine part of the plot.
She murmured, "_Ah_! _Une belle Romaine_," thoughtfully.

She told me that she liked to hear people of that sort spoken of in terms of our common humanity.