Puzzled, she rose, tied her silk gown, and padded barefoot to the door. Not quite sure what to do, she called ‘Who is it?’ The reply came ‘I am ...orry to bother you so late giovane Donna, it is I, Signore Domani’. Isabella instantly recognised the cultured voice of her zio Anton, her father’s oldest friend, a widower in his early 50s. Si, Uncle Anton!’ exclaimed Isabella, unbolting and opening the heavy door, relieved that this was no stranger she would have to deal with. It was raining heavily. Vicky and Jason stood wordlessly out on the concrete of the driveway. They could hear him wind it up a little heading down the street, slow for the stop sign at the corner, make the turn and head down the next block, then around the corner to pass Joe and Mignon's house. In a minute he was back. "Not bad," he reported as he pulled to a stop. He let go of the throttle and the engine died. "Carb isn't quite on; it doesn't idle unless you keep some throttle on it." Might work its way out after. More

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