"You were frightened--confess that you were," she said, teasingly,
sitting down opposite to him, heated with the exercise she had gone
through. She gazed into his face with her cheek resting on her hand and
her elbow on the table. "You were afraid; and now you are angry. The
women in your country don't do such things!"

Salvé turned to her with a look of icy rebuff. "No, señorita," he
replied, curtly, and went down into the garden.

Thereupon she seized the guitar again, and began strumming an
accompaniment apparently to her thoughts. It was no longer lively music
she played, but something of a menacing strain, in keeping with the look
in her eyes, and she seemed in a manner to hiss the air through her
teeth.

Later on in the evening she came tripping over to him with a coquettish
smile, and after the custom of the country offered him a cigarette,
which she had begun to smoke herself. When he rather ungallantly
declined it, she exclaimed furiously, stamping her foot--

"Señor!"

But she recovered herself in a moment, and said laughing, with at all
events apparent good-nature, something which meant that she understood
that this might perhaps not be a custom in his country.

Salvé felt much relieved when her brother came home, and told him that
the meeting he was waiting for was to take place on the following
evening.