Helen stepped to the hammock. Another graceful bow from Pedro.
"At your feet, señorita."
Uncle Sid, uninvited, explored the garden. Pedro was marching to the adobe. To Helen it seemed as if she had never before experienced such a delicious sensation as the resting of her tired body in the perfectly adjusted hammock. Ralph was watching her.
"Pedro has departed, may I take his place?" Assuming an affirmative answer, he stretched himself at her feet.
"Helen, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously.
"Nothing, that I know of." She replied evasively.
"Is it the office?" persisted Winston.
"Why can't you believe me?" There was a trace of annoyance in her manner.
"Because when your eyes tell me one thing and your lips another, I'm going to take my choice."
"I really don't like to ask you to attend to your own business, Ralph." There was a flash of the old humor in her voice.