pression. Geof, for his part, had been really stirred by it, but he had no intention of owning it.
"I don't think we need waste any sympathy on the moon," he replied. "It's usually cock of the walk here in Venice."
Having thus satisfactorily disposed of that subject, the young people turned their steps toward the clock-tower, Geof wondering resignedly why May made no motion to rejoin her family.
"I don't think I agree with you about mysteries," she said, presently; "I can't bear them. There's Nanni, now, the brother of our gondolier," she continued; and then, turning, and looking her companion full in the face: "Can you make him out?"
"What is it about him that puzzles you?" Geof asked, returning her glance with equal frankness.
"I don't know that I can explain it. He seems somehow—different. There is something wrong about him. I don't think he is happy."
