"Because I haf nefer been your friend. I haf always loaf you, I haf forget vhat it vas like not to loaf you. It ees true you vere scarce polite about dthe reading. I did not know I bore you. I feel it fery deep. It might not matter to zome Nordthern zhentlemen, but I am dthe most sensible man you ever know."
"Sensible!" I say, in a tone scarcely flattering, trying to keep my lips from twitching.
"Yes, I am terrible sensible; a fery leedle dthing vill hurt me."
"Well, well, I'll be your friend, anyhow, and I'll try to be very considerate. I'll show you what a good friend a North American can be."
"My gude friend haf make my head zo ache I dthink it vill burst."
He pushes back his cap, and carries my hand to his forehead; it is very hot and the temples throb under my fingers.
"Poor fellow!" I say, hoping with might and main that no one sees. "Shall I send you some eau de Cologne?"
"No! no! If you vould gif me your hand again."
"No," I say, "not here. Anyone who saw us would misunderstand. Come to Mrs. Steele; she'll give you something."
"No!" says the Peruvian. "I vill stay here; you stay, too. Ah, Señorita, how can you be so indifferent to my loaf?"