consequently I could gain nothing. The other stewards were Napolitans, therefore, because I was a Tuscan, they relegated me to the worst post. Ah, signore, you don't know what it is to serve those emigrants! I made two trips, then returned and married Armida. I called on you, but Tito said you were in London. At first I got work at a café in Viareggio, but when the season ended, and I was thrown out of employment, I managed to work my way from Genoa to London. My first place was scullion in a restaurant in Tottenham Court Road, and then I became waiter in the beer-hall at the Monico, and managed to save sufficient to send Armida the money to join me here. Afterwards I went to the Milano, and I hope to get into one of the big hotels very soon — or perhaps the grill-room at the Carlton. I have a friend who is there, and they make lots of money — four or five pounds every week in tips, they say."
"I'll see what I can do for you," I said. "I know several hotel-managers who might have a vacancy."
"Ah, signore!" he cried, filled with gratification. "If you only would! A word from you would secure me a good position. I can work, that you know — and I do work. I will work — for her sake."
"I have promised you," I said briefly.
"And how can I sufficiently thank you?" he cried, standing before me, while in his eyes I thought I detected a strange wild look, such as I had never seen there before.
"You served me well, Olinto," I replied, "and
