Señora Garcia was coarsely handsome, but she had not the easy manners of a lady of rank and her dark color hinted at Indian blood. Her expression was arrogant, and Evelyn felt that she was hostile. Besides, she spoke an uncouth Spanish that the girl could not understand at all. Breakfast was a trial of nerve, but Evelyn knew that she must eat and hide her fears. When breakfast was over she would have a talk with Gomez.
He soon came in, and dismissed the señora Garcia with a commanding glance. Her servile obedience was significant.
"Buenos días, señorita," he greeted Evelyn smilingly.
"When do you expect my father?" she asked bluntly.
"I regret that I cannot answer positively. It may be a week before he comes—perhaps longer."
"But you brought me here to meet him!"
Gomez smiled, and spread out his hands in a way that always irritated Evelyn.
"It now appears that the señor Cliffe's business with the President is not finished," he said.
"It would not prevent his coming to meet me if he had promised."
"You should know best," Gomez answered with a shrug. "Still, it looks as if the señor Cliffe put his business first and is not very anxious about you."