"Oh yes—me speek Inglees—me in Cuba—learn speek Inglees—vara mooch."
"Oh! so you've been in Cuba, have you, my dear? Well, Cuba's a very pretty country, and you're a very pretty woman."
The woman smiled, showing rows of splendid teeth.
"Señor mus' be a gran' nobile—a generale."
Russell smiled a lofty smile, and laid his hand patronizingly, yet tenderly, upon the woman's shoulder.
"You are a very sensible woman," said he, "and as pretty as you are sensible. What is your name?"
"Rita," said the woman.
"Well, Rita, I dare say you and I shall be great friends."
"Friends! oh, señor is too much magnifico—"
"Oh, I ain't proud, my dear—not a bit, not a mite. I've got plenty of money, Rita, and can help my friends; but I ain't proud, not me. And what may be your particular duties in this establishment?"