questions always turned upon the same topic--namely, what the women were
like in his country; so that he soon came to know by heart all the
Spanish terms which related to that subject.

They were out on the veranda together that evening, and as she went past
his back while he was leaning over in his seat, she drew her hand as if
by accident lightly through his hair. If it had had the electricity of a
cat's, it would have given out a perfect shower of sparks, so enraged
was he at the advance.

When Federigo came home he flung his hat away angrily on to a chair, and
drank down at a gulp a glass of rum that was standing on the table. He
no longer wore the smart cloak he had on when he went out.

"I have gambled away all your money!" he cried, in English, to Salvé, as
if careless of further reticence, and made some remark then with an
unpleasant laugh to his sister, who had evidently by her expression
perceived at once how matters stood.

"There's my last piastre for you," said Salvé, throwing it over to him.
"Try your luck with it."

"He is successful in love," said Paolina, tearfully, and with a _naïve_
affectation of superstition--"he is engaged."

When her brother, who was balancing the piastre on his forefinger,
laughingly translated what she had said, Salvé replied snappishly, with
an impatient glance at the señorita--

"I am not engaged, and never shall be."