Maraquito did not know what to make of the ironical old
gentleman. It seemed to her that he was hostile, but she
could take no offence at what he said. Moreover, as he was
Mallow's uncle, she did not wish to quarrel with him. With a
graceful gesture she indicated a glass of champagne. "Will
you not drink to our better acquaintance?"

"Certainly," said Caranby without emotion, and sipped a few
drops of the golden-colored wine. "I hope to see much of
you."

"I reciprocate the hope," said Maraquito radiantly, "and I'll
tell you a secret. I have been consulting specialists, and I
find that in a few months I shall be able to walk as well as
ever I did."

"Excellent news," said Caranby, "I hope you will."

"And, moreover," added Maraquito, looking at him from behind
her fan; "I shall then give up this place. I have plenty of
money, and--"

"You will go back to Spain?"

"That depends. Should I leave my heart in England--"

"How I envy the man you leave it with."

Maraquito looked down moodily. "He doesn't care for my
heart."