His eyes were dark, quick, with the glassy darkness that she found so wearying. But they were tilted up with a curious slant, under arched black brows. It gave him an odd look of detachment, as if he looked at life with raised brows. His manner was superficially assured, underneath perhaps half-savage, shy and farouche, and deprecating.
“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.”