"How long do you intend to sleep, Jack?"
"An hour or so. Then we'll have something to eat, and go off to Maraquando's to see the ladies. We must introduce Peter to his future wife."
"Begad, I may fall in love with Doña Serafina myself!"
"It's possible, if you are an admirer of the antique," retorted Jack, and went off to his bedroom for a few hours' sleep. Even lovers require rest, and bucketing about on a half-broken horse for the best part of the day under a grilling sun was calculated to knock up even so tough a subject as Jack.
"Faith!" remarked Tim, when Jack's long legs vanished through the doorway, "if old Serafina smiles on Peter, and those girls flirt with you and Jack, I'll be left out in the cold. Another injustice to Ireland."
"Come to the alameda to-morrow, and pick out a señorita to be your own private property."
"What! and get a knife in my ribs. I'm more than seven, Philip. Why, there was once a girl in Cape Town who had a Boer for a sweetheart——"
"And you took the girl, and the Boer didn't like it. I know that story, Tim. It's a chestnut. You told it in that book of sketches you wrote. Go on with your work; I'm sleepy."
"Ow—ow!" yawned Tim, lazily. "I'd like to sleep myself, but that I have to write up this interview with Gomez. Did I tell you about it, Philip?"
"Yes; you've told me three times, and given three different versions. Keep the fourth for The Morning Planet."