“And her garden, you would add,” I answered.
“Yes.”
“But there's something here that is mine.”
“There is nothing here that is yours.” His voice, studiously cold at first, warmed with anger.
“It will be mine some day, in spite of—everything.”
“You boast, Marqués de Casa Triana.”
“No. For Lady Monica Vale has promised to marry me.”
Carmona caught his breath on a word by which, if he had not stopped to think, he would have given me the lie. But something restrained him and he laughed instead. “I wouldn't count on the fulfilment of her promise if I were you,” he said. “Lady Monica's a schoolgirl. I would tell you, for your own sake, that the best thing you can do is to forget you ever saw her; but that will be a [pg 28]waste of breath. What I will say is, you'll be wise to leave Biarritz before anything disagreeable happens.”
“I intend to leave Biarritz,” I said quietly.
“I'm glad to hear it.”