CHAPTER XXIV
THE NEXT DAY
"It's ingratitude, I say, ingratitude worthy of a—Catalonian," puffed Colonel Barcelo, striding up and down the veranda on the second story of his house.
"But, dear husband, Captain Morando is not a Catalonian. He is Castilian, native of Madrid, just the same as we are."
The Colonel paused in his walk and glared at his wife. "All the worse for him! All the worse for him!" he roared. "He has birth and training of a lion and the instincts of a—a——" Breath failed him.
"O, dear husband!" in expostulation.
"Dear husband! Dear husband!" mockingly. "This is no time——" Sufficient breath had not returned to him to complete his thought.
"O, Crisostimo! Crisostimo!"
"Crisostimo! Crisostimo!" again mocking her. "I've always said, Señora Barcelo, that you have no pride, and that you talk too much."
"O, my husband, you don't love me any more. How I wish I had never come to California!"