She gave what was hers to give,
as long as he wanted it; when he wanted it no more, she meant to leave
him, and it would make no difference what became of her afterwards.

When she had finished speaking, Marcello was very miserable, because he
could find no answer to what she had said, and he felt that she had no
right to say it at all. His head ached now, from excitement and want of
sleep, and he almost wished that he had put off speaking to Regina about
her marriage. He rested his head in his hand as he sat thinking, and she
came and stood beside him as she had done in the morning in the little
house in Trastevere. But it was not the same now. She hoped that he
would put up his other hand to find hers, without looking at her, as he
often did, but it gripped his knee as if he did not mean to move it, and
he did not raise his head.

She looked up from his bent figure to the window and saw that the light
was reddening with the first tinge of sunset. It would soon be night,
Marcello would go away, and she would be dreadfully lonely. It was not
like being in the little house, knowing that he was near her, in the
great villa on top of the hill, hidden from her only by trees. She was
in a strange place now, and he would be far away, across the Tiber, and
the great dark city would be between her and him.

For an instant her lip quivered, and she thought she was going to cry,
though she had never cried in her life, except for rage and when she had
been a little girl. She shook her handsome head impatiently at the mere
sensation, and held it higher than ever. Then Marcello looked up at
last.

As their eyes met they heard the tinkle of the little bell. Regina at
once left his side to go and open the door. It was not till she had left
the room that Marcello rose, asking himself suddenly why it had not
occurred to him to go himself. He realised that he had always allowed
her to wait on him without question. Yet if she were his wife, he would
not think of letting her do what she was doing now. He would even open
the door of the room for her to go out.

He knew why he had never treated her in that way. She was a peasant
girl, she had been a servant in an inn; it was natural that she should
serve him too. She often brought him his shoes when he was going out,
and she would have put them on for him and laced them if he would have
let her do it. It seemed natural that she should answer the bell and
open the door, as it seemed unn