Walthew sat opposite with a thoughtful expression; and soon Macallister joined in the talk. It was obvious that he was amusing, for Evelyn saw those who sat near smile and then hearty laughter rose from his end of the table. The Spanish girl and Grahame no longer spoke to each other, and the engineer's voice came up through the clink of glass and the hum of conversation, sometimes in broad Scots and sometimes in stumbling and uncouth Castilian.
When the guests were leaving the dining-room Grahame met Cliffe in the corridor.
"Glad to see you. I didn't expect to find you in Havana," the American said cordially. "I want a smoke. Will you come along?"
They found a seat in the patio, and Cliffe gave Grahame a cigar.
"How's business?" he asked.
"We can't complain, so far," Grahame answered cautiously. "The boat, of course, does not carry much, but her light draught allows her to get into harbors that larger vessels can only enter on big tides, and we sold our last cargo at a satisfactory price. Just now I'm looking out for a few passengers to Kingston; there's no boat across for some time."
"I might go with you, if you have two good rooms to spare. There's a fruit-growing estate I want to look at in Jamaica."
The suggestion was welcome to Grahame. He promised to give Cliffe part of the deckhouse, and they afterward talked of something else.
In the meanwhile, Walthew was sitting with Blanca Sarmiento. He was quiet, for he still felt languid and the patio was hot; but he was conscious of his companion's charm. Indeed, he had thought of her often since he left Rio Frio, and she had had a place in the fantastic dreams the fever brought him.
"You do not speak much, but you have been ill," she said presently, with a sympathetic glance. "It was a grief to us to hear it; but you have suffered in a good cause."