had better cause. The Portuguese, however, saluted me with his customary courtesy, and I thought there was a grave twinkle in his steady eye.
“Are you in deesgrace also, friend Cole?” he inquired in his all but perfect English.
“More or less,” said I ruefully.
He gave the shrug of his country - that delicate gesture which is done almost entirely with the back - a subtlety beyond the power of British shoulders.
“The senhora is both weelful and pivish,” said he, mixing the two vowels which (with
of her start to my eyes; and there is the trade-wind singing in the rigging, and loosening a tress of my darling’s hair, till it flies like a tiny golden streamer in the tropic sun. There, it is out! I have called her what she was to be in my heart ever after. Yet at the time I must argue with her -