He had said very little about his journey, though he intended to tell Dom Clemente rather more, but he presently became conscious that Benicia was regarding him with a little smile. He also noticed, and was somewhat annoyed with himself for thinking of it, that she had lips like the crimson pulp of the pomegranate, the grandadilla which figures in the imagery of the Iberian Peninsula as well as in that of parts of Africa, where it is seldom grown. Ormsgill was quite aware of this, and it had its associations of Eastern mysticism and sensuality, for he was a man of education and the outcasts he had lived with had not all been of low degree. Among them there had been a certain green-turbaned Moslem who had taught him things unknown to his kind at home. He felt that it was advisable to put a restraint upon himself.
"You are not sorry you have come back to us?" said Benicia.
Ormsgill was by no means sorry, and permitted himself to admit as much. He had accomplished part, at least, of his purpose successfully, and that in itself had a tranquilizing effect on him, while after the weary marches through tall grass and tangled bush under scorching heat it was distinctly pleasant to sit there cleanly clad, in the cool air with such a companion. Benicia, it almost seemed, guessed his thoughts, for she laughed softly.
"It is comforting to feel that one has done what he has undertaken," she said. "Still, you were, at least, not alone by those campfires in the bush."
Ormsgill flushed a little, though he contrived not to start. He had naturally not considered it necessary to tell Miss Figuera anything about Anita.
"No," he said simply. "I don't know how you could have heard about it, but I was not alone."
It was characteristic of him that he offered no explanation, and was content to leave what he had done open to misconception. In fact, he had a vague but unpleasant feeling that the latter course might be the wiser one. Benicia turned her dark eyes full upon him, and there was a faint sparkle in the depths of them.
"My friend, I hear of almost everything," she said. "As it happens, I know what you went up into the bush for."
"Well," said Ormsgill reflectively, "perhaps, I should not be surprised at that. It was only natural that I should be watched."
He met her gaze without wavering, and, though he was not aware of this, his eyes had a question in them. It was one he could not have asked directly even if he had wished, but remembering that Anita was to live in that city he took a bold course.