The dark eyes looking across towards Majorca were not pleasant to
contemplate.

"However," pursued the ingenuous parti, "I spoke to her as one might
have done to another chap, you know. I said, 'You're frightened of
something.' She didn't answer. 'You're afraid that I'm going to
ask you to marry me.' 'Yes,' she answered. 'Well, I'm not. I'm
not such a cad.' And after that we got on all right. She would
have told who it was if I had let her. Two days later I sloped off
here. Spain choked her off--the old lady, I mean."

Lloseta laughed, and the young man began to think that he had said
something rude.

"She did not know what a nice place it is," he added, with a
transparency which did no harm. "Yes, you're right. The devil had
something to do with my coming here. Match-making old women are the
devil."

He paused and attended to his cigar. The steamer passed within a
hundred yards of them.

The Englishman nodded towards it.

"Steamer's going to Majorca," he said.

Lloseta nodded his head.

"Yes," he answered gravely, "I know."