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Maggie said and laid down her little spoon to drink some water. ‘And “Signora” would be better. “Mrs” and “Miss” make you close your mouth for the ms but for “Signora” and “Signorina” you don’t shut your mouth. “Mrs” and “Miss” form a sneer but “Signora” and “Signorina” are a hiss.’
    Marino the psychologist leaned forward to catch Maggie’s drift, puzzled. The others laughed while Letizia explained the point to Marino in rapid Italian undertones. He said, ‘Why is a hiss better than a sneer?’
    ‘It’s better,’ said the father as the glasses were filled with his good wine.
    ‘Anyway,’ said Maggie, ‘Signora is perfectly all right for me as I’m now married to an Italian and Italy’s a republic’
    ‘The Signora is of course the Marchesa di Tullio-Friole,’ said Dr Bernardini with his cool good manners, at the same time drawing the line at any excess of a tiresome subject arising from Maggie’s logic.
    ‘Oh, Marchesa is so formal. It suits me only when I’m with my husband.’
    ‘I was at school with his son, Pino,’ said Dr Bernardini. ‘I remember your husband very well. I stayed at the villa up in the Veneto, often. I’ve hunted there.’
    ‘Then you must come again,’ said Maggie. ‘He’s there now, seeing to the alterations to my bathroom.’
    The candles flickered. Came the spinach soufflé, the crumbed veal and salad, the lemon ice and the fruit, while Maggie talked on about the two other houses she owned in the neighbourhood, her son’s and Hubert Mallindaine’s.
    ‘Mr Mallindaine’s is new,’ said Letizia sharply, ‘but your son’s house is a sixteenth-century farm-house.’
    Pietro said he had always admired the old farm-house. He seemed uneasy about his sister.
    ‘It should be in Italian hands,’ Letizia said. ‘Our national patrimony.’
    ‘It cost a fortune to put right,’ Maggie said.
    The father intercepted Letizia’s foreseen reaction to say that he understood Maggie had restored the old house beautifully, and built the new house beautifully as well.
    Pietro, it seemed, knew the young Radcliffes and had been to their house.
    ‘Oh, those are the Americans you spoke of?’ This was Letizia again, so much so that her boy-friend laughed. ‘What’s funny?’ said Letizia, seeing that the others were laughing.
    ‘Something,’ said Maggie, ‘about the way you said “Americans”.’
    ‘Letizia, don’t be silly,’ said the father.
    Letizia said, ‘Shall we have coffee outside, Papa?’ Then, as she led the way through the french windows to the upper terrace, she said, ‘I believe in Italy for the Italians.’
    ‘Letizia!’ said Emilio.
    ‘You are so impolite,’ said her brother.
    ‘What about the English?’ said Nancy. ‘Are we unwanted here?’
    ‘The English the same,’ Letizia said as she waited for her guests to be seated.
    The father was explaining to Maggie. ‘It’s only a toy gun she’s playing with, or at least, a gun filled with blanks.’
    Letizia said ‘Oh!’ protestingly.
    Maggie said, ‘Oh, I agree with her, really I do. I think the Americans soon won’t be able to afford to stay in Italy. You know, since I married an Italian, I feel myself to be an Italian.’
    The young psychologist said to the father, ‘You talk of guns, Dr Bernardini. Playing with guns. That’s interesting.’
    ‘It’s a sexual image,’ Maggie said, and they all laughed except Letizia and her boy-friend.
    Letizia sat down and the coffee was brought to the terrace table. Letizia started pouring while Nancy took round the cups. ‘And the third house?’ Letizia said.
    ‘An Englishman,’ Maggie said. ‘As a matter of fact, Dr Bernardini, he’s my problem. He’s the problem I wanted to ask you about.’
    ‘It’s a beautiful house,’ said the father. ‘It must have a wonderful view.’
    ‘It has the best view of all three houses,’ Maggie said looking one by one at her rings. ‘And what’s more, the furniture is