“Thank you so much,” she said.
He called to a soldier in the gateway.
I will send you in the automobile of my friend,” he said. "It will be better than a taxi. You don’t like the bull-fight?”
“No! Horrible!” said Kate. "But do get me a yellow taxi. That is quite safe.”
"Well, the man has gone for the automobile. You are English, yes?"
"Irish,” said Kate.
"Ah Irish!" he replied, with the flicker of a smile.
"You speak English awfully well,” she said.
“Yes! I was educated there. I was in England seven years.”
“Were you! My name is Mrs Leslie.”
“Ah Leslie! I knew James Leslie in Oxford. He was killed in the war.”
“Yes. That was my husband’s brother.”
"Oh really!"
"How small the world is!" said Kate.
"Yes indeed!" said the general.
There was a pause.
"And the gentlemen who are with you, they are—?"
"American,” said Kate.
"Ah Americans! Ah yes!”
"The older one is my cousin—Owen Rhys.”
"Owen Rhys! Ah yes! I think I saw in the newspaper you were here in town—visiting Mexico.”
He spoke in a peculiar quiet voice, rather suppressed, and his quick eyes glanced at her, and at his surroundings, like those of a man perpetually suspecting an ambush. But his face had a certain silent hostility, under his kindness. He was saving his nation’s reputation.
"They did put in a not very complimentary note,” said Kate. “I think they don’t like it that we stay in the Hotel San Remo. It is too poor and foreign. But we are none of us rich, and we like it better than those other places.”
"The Hotel San Remo? Where is that?"
"In the Avenida del Peru. Won’t you come and see us there, and meet my cousin and Mr Thompson?"
“Thank you! Thank you! I hardly ever go out. But I will call if I may, and then perhaps you will all
