"Manuel Mazaro," said M. D'Hemecourt, again rising, "you 'ave say enough."
"No, no, Senor; no, no; I want tell-a you—is a-one man—whath lo-va you' thaughter; an' I knowce him!"
Was there no cause for quarrel, after all? Could it be that Mazaro was about to speak for Galahad? The old man asked in his simplicity:
"Madjor Shaughnessy?"
Mazaro smiled mockingly.
"Mayor Shaughness'," he said; "oh, no; not Mayor Shaughness'!"
Pauline could stay no longer; escape she must, though it be in Manuel Mazaro's very face. Turning again and looking up into Galahad's face in a great fright, she opened her lips to speak, but—
"Mayor Shaughness'," continued the Cuban; "he nev'r-a lo-va you' thaughter."
Galahad was putting the maiden back from the door with his hand.
"Pauline," he said, "it's a lie!"