I tighten my hold on his arm, trying not to let him see how much I want to laugh.
"Of course, one loves one's friends; don't be silly."
A quick light leaps into the dark eyes. I am reproached and vaguely uneasy at the sight of his gladness.
"I'm going back to Mrs. Steele; she doesn't like me to leave her so long." I turn away and like a flash he is at my side. He draws my hand through his arm, holding it against his heart. I can feel the great leaps under the yachtman's gay jacket.
"Ah!" sighs the wearer, "I feel suffocate on dthis boat—it ees so small, people eferywhere and you and I so leedle alone. Ah, ve vill soon be at San José!"
"I don't see how that will mend matters." I am anxious to see what he has in mind.
"Madame Steele vant to go to Guatemala."
"Yes, but so do most of the other passengers."
"From San José to Guatemala ees seventy mile, and dthe Paris of Central America ees zomething more large dthan dthis San Miguel. Much can happen before ve come back."
We join Mrs. Steele and talk over our plan.