"Oh, but—No, I couldn't think of depriving you of it. I know you prize it."
"Nevertheless, señorita, I would be made happy if you would keep it."
It was a precious token to Mrs. Beltrán and she longed to accept, but felt it would be ungenerous to do so till Anita spoke up: "If you will give us your address we will each send you a card from England, and when we find Pepé we will send this back to you, and will see to it that he writes you another, too. We will consider that you have merely lent us this."
Such a solution was highly satisfactory to all concerned, so it was left in this way. Mrs. Beltrán took down Tito's address, and he made a deliberate and solemn departure, leaving them in a flurry over plans for their next move.
CHAPTER XII
Help From England
The bridge of yesterday had doubled its span since Nancy Loomis passed over it to become Anita Beltrán in Spain. Now Spain was left behind; left behind, too, the kind and hospitable friends she had made there. Even Barcelona, which she had not cared for at first, was hard to leave. The little pension had become a pleasantly familiar spot, and those who still lingered there parted from them as if from old friends. Doña Carmen loaded them down with blessings and bounties, the latter in the form of bizcochos, fruit, dulces. The Perlitas, protesting that nothing now would persuade them to remain a week longer, insisted upon bestowing upon each a handsome lace mantilla, black for Mrs. Beltrán, white for Anita. Don Manuel appeared that last morning with a huge bunch of flowers and a box of that delectable sweet known as turron. Even Miss Ralston, not conspicuous for generosity, presented a bad sketch of a beautiful place, and good Mr. Garriguez was at the train with tickets and instructions. Ladies travelling sola, he felt had need of much counsel.
So off they went, taking the shortest route as far as Dieppe, where they would embark for Newhaven and thus reach Sussex direct.
Leaving the balconied houses, the smoking factory chimneys and the cathedral, dominating the city's highest point, they were borne northward, and settled down to their hours of travel.
"Somehow," said Anita, catching a last glimpse of the cathedral towers, "I shall always associate Santa Cruz with our English lad Donald Abercrombie. Wouldn't it be queer, mother, if we were to run across him and his uncle in England? One is continually doing that in travelling about."