Chapter XXIV
Falling Leaves
It was early November when Mr. Warren and his daughter arrived in Rome. They took rooms in one of the modern and distinctly Americanized establishments on the Via Veneto, from the windows of which they could look into the Queen Mother’s garden, as well as the small area of terrace and roof-gardens where the Capuchin monks walk in their recreation time. Mr. Warren found Roman hotels really good, and he had the further satisfaction of becoming a member of the golf club almost immediately.
It was bewildering for Anne to find herself anywhere but in the stately old rooms down in the lower city; and almost did it seem as though she were not in Rome, the things that made her life there were so different from what had made it the winter before. How different the noisy hotel bellboys and porters from the silent-footed and radiantly sympathetic Dioniseo! How different the dreary publicity of overheated halls and reading-rooms from the cool and sequestered beauty of her aunt’s apartment in the ancient palace!
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