Said he: "Might as well get it over with."
She nodded. "Let him come up," she called to Ginger.
Señor Henry rushed into the room, and oblivious to the presence of Greg fell on his knees beside Amy's bed and reached for her hand. "Amèlie! Amèlie!" he cried. A flood of Spanish followed. Gone was the high-bred disdain. His yellow face worked with the uncontrollable emotion of a weak nature.
For some obscure reason Amy blushed and glanced uneasily at Greg. He, no less uncomfortable, looked away.
"Get up," she said curtly to the other. "Speak English."
Señor Henry obeyed neither command.
"I shall not answer you unless you speak English."
He made the attempt, but it was not easy for him to express his overmastering emotion in the unfamiliar tongue. The stammering effect of it all was: "Come away! This is no place for you!"
"This is where my friends live," said Amy coldly.
It was lost on him. "Come away! I have a cab down-stairs."