They were wed in Florence, in the grandest cathedral she had ever seen, the Santa Maria del Fiore. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. The four tourists contributed varied sums: the spinsters ten cents each, the girl a shilling, the young man a Mexican dollar. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. Listen to me, Thames. Let us proceed with our tale. But remember my warning, and play the game!" Spurlock closed his eyes again.
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