Dicky
said he never had such a good time; but that was because he had
exhausted Venice and his patience, and was going on to Verona next day.
The arbour and the grass and the street-car track ended sharply and all
together at a raised wooden walk that led across the sand to a pavilion
hanging over the Adriatic, and here we sat and watched other Venetians
disporting themselves in the water below. They were glorious creatures,
and they disported themselves nobly, keeping so well in view of the
pavilion and such a steady eye upon the spectators that poppa had an
impulsive desire to feed them with macaroons. He decided not to; you
never could tell, he said, what might be considered a liberty by
foreigners; but he had a hard struggle with the temptation, the aquatic
accomplishments we saw were so deserving of reward. I had the misfortune
to lose a little pink rose overboard, as it were, and Dicky looked
seriously annoyed when an amphibious young Venetian caught it between
his lips. I don't know why; he was one of the most attractive on view,
but I have often noticed Turkish tendencies in Dicky where his
country-women are concerned.
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