He was going down to the village himself and would be pleased to guide them.
He fell into step beside Constance and commenced asking questions, while Tony, as the path was narrow, perforce fell behind.

Occasionally Constance translated, but usually she laughed without translating, and Tony, for the twentieth time, found himself hating the Italian language.
The young man's question's were refreshingly ingenuous.

He was curious about America, since he was thinking, he said, of becoming an American himself some day.

He knew a man once who had gone to America to live and had made a fortune there--but yes, a large fortune--ten thousand lire in four years.

Perhaps the signorina knew him--Giuseppe Motta; he lived in Buenos Aires.