She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. “Oh, Veronica!” she said, “to leave your home!” She had been weeping. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. “These are for you. But your cracked skull is by no means a pleasing spectacle. They will say that it was murder. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. You will observe that a coronet is embroidered on it. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America.
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