The Day of Temptation by William le Queux

The soft, musical Tuscan tongue, the language which Cemma spoke always with her lover, is full of quaint sayings and wise proverbs. The assertion that "L'amore della donna e come il vino di Champagni; se non si beve subito, ricade in fondo al calice" is a daily maxim of those light-hearted, happy, indolent dwellers north and south of Arno's Valley, from grey old Lucca, with her crumbling city gates and ponderous walls, across the mountains, and plains to where the high towers of Siena stand out clear-cut like porcelain against the fiery blaze of sunset. Nearly every language has an almost similar proverb -- a proverb which is true indeed, but, like many another equally wise, is little heeded.

When Armytage and Gemma had arrived in London, he had not been a little surprised at the address where she stated some friends of hers resided. While still in the train, before she reached London, she took from her purse a soiled and carefully treasured piece of paper, whereon was written, "76, Bridge Avenue, Hammersmith"; and to this house they drove, after depositing their heavy baggage in the cloak-room. They found it a poor, wretched thoroughfare off King Street, and in the wet evening it looked grey, depressing, and unutterably miserable after the brightness of Italy. Suddenly the cab pulled up before the house indicated -- a small two-storied one -- but it was evident that the person they sought no longer lived there, for a board was up announcing that the house was to let. Armytage, after knocking at the door and obtaining no response, rapped at the neighbouring house, and inquired whether they were aware of the address of Mr Nenci, who had left.