_Gia_, it is warm.' He bowed and smiled and rubbed his hands together.

His moustaches, fairly bristling with good will, turned up in a half-circle until they caressed his nose on either side.

He bustled about placing table and chairs, and recklessly dusting them with the clean napkin.

The signorina laid her fluffy white parasol on one chair and seated herself on another, her profile turned to the summer-house.

Gustavo hovered over them, awaiting their pleasure, the genius itself of respectful devotion.