CHAPTER V


That evening at sunset Manella made her way towards the hill and the
"House of the Dying," moved by she knew not what strange impulse.
She had no excuse whatever for going; she knew that the man living
up there in whom she was so much interested had as much food for
three days as he asked for or desired, and that he was likely to be
vexed at the very sight of her. Yet she had an eager wish to tell
him something about the wonderful little creature with lightning
eyes who had left the Plaza that morning and had told her, Manella,
that she was "quite beautiful." Pride, and an innocent feminine
vanity thrilled her; "if another woman thinks so, it must be so,"--
she argued, being aware that women seldom admire each other. She
walked swiftly, with head bent,--and was brought to a startled halt
by meeting and almost running against the very individual she
sought, who in his noiseless canvas shoes and with his panther-like
tread had come upon her unawares. Checked in her progress she stood
still, her eyes quickly lifted, her lips apart. In her adoration of
the strength and magnificent physique of the stranger whom she knew
only as a stranger, she thought he looked splendid as a god
descending from the hill. Far from feeling god-like, he frowned as
he saw her.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, brusquely.