“How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Then thanks,” the young man said, not “thank you,” or “thank you very
much,” or “thank you a thousand times,” all of which you formerly said
in Italy to a man when he handed you a time-table or explained about a
direction. The young man uttered the lowest form of the word “thanks”
and looked after us suspiciously as Guy started the car. I waved my hand
at him. He was too dignified to reply. We went on into Spezia.
“That’s a young man that will go a long way in Italy,” I said to Guy.
“Well,” said Guy, “he went twenty kilometres with us.”