"Good-bye," said the President, giving me his hand. "Think sometimes of Equinata."
"You may be sure I shall do that," I answered, with a glance at the white town ashore.
Then the Señorita in her turn held out her little hand. I took it, and as I did so looked into her eyes.
"Good-bye," she said, and in a low voice added:—"May the Saints protect you."
Then she followed the President to the gangway. A quarter of an hour later we were steaming between the Heads, and in half-an-hour La Gloria was out of sight.
CHAPTER XVII
It was a cold and foggy day in November when the steamer which I had boarded in Barbadoes reached the Thames. I had been absent from England more than four months, and the veriest glutton for excitement could not have desired more than had fallen to my lot.
Having bade my fellow-passengers good-bye, I caught the first available train to town only to discover, when I reached Fenchurch Street, that I should have some considerable time to wait at Waterloo before I could get on to Salisbury. I accordingly cast about me for a way of employing my time. This resolved itself in a decision to call upon my old friend, Mr. Winzor, in order to obtain from him the letter I had entrusted to his charge. As I made my way along the crowded streets I could not help contrasting them to the sun-bathed thoroughfares of La Gloria. In my mind's eye I could see again the happy-go-lucky cafés on the tree-shaded pavement, the white houses with their green shutters; and, behind the city, the mountains towering up, peak after peak, into the azure sky.