It's only a matter of a day or so before he'll be breaded and fried and served Milanese fashion with a sauce of tomato and garlic." Constance shook her head sympathetically; though whether her sympathy was for the calf or the partakers of _table d'hote_, was not quite clear.
"I know," she agreed.

"I've been a guest at the Hotel du Lac myself--it's a tragedy to be born a calf in Italy!" She nodded and turned; it was evident this time that she was really going.

He took a hasty step forward.
"Oh, I say, please don't go! Stay and talk to me--just a little while.
That calf isn't half so lonely as I am." "I should like to, but really I mustn't.

Elizabetta is waiting for me to bring her some eggs.

We are planning a trip up the Maggiore tomorrow, and we have to have a cake to take with us.