‘You put that the wrong way around,’ he said gravely. ‘It’s your first sight of Venice that matters.’
‘Well, you’re a Venetian—’
‘Yes, I’m a Venetian and I know that this is one of the wonders of the world. Now you have seen it, it will be with you all your life.’ His merriment had faded, and she realised he was talking about something that mattered to him deeply. She hoped he would go on, but he smiled and said, ‘Tell me some more. What about your family?’
‘I have none. My parents are both dead. I studied Fine Arts in evening classes, specialising in glass. I want to have a shop with the best glass from all over the world.’
He gave a mock frown. ‘But only Venetian glass matters. Why should you bother with any other?’
‘Well—other countries do make good glass.’
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