I'm afraid maybe you fall.' Tony's voice was humbly persuasive.

Constance laughed and laid her hand lightly on his arm.

Tony dropped his own hand over hers and held her firmly.

Neither spoke until they came to the piazza.
'Signorina,' he whispered, 'you make me ver' happy to-night.' She drew her hand away.
'I'm tired, Tony.

I'm not quite myself.' 'No, signorina, yesterday I sink maybe you not yourself, but to-day you ver' good, ver' kind--jus' your own self ze way you ought to be.' The piazza, after the dark, narrow streets that led to it, seemed bubbling with life.