“Oh, if you only can,” she said.
“Now how about you.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“I’m blest if you will be. I’ll see you home.”
“Oh, Hi; no.”
“Yes, I will.”
“No, no, Hi. I shan’t be stopped with my market basket and in this dress. And by the Farola there is a short cut through the waste to our garden.”
“I’ll see you there, then. I must. I’ve got to ask you scores of things which I must know. When you’re reasonably safe, I’ll get to Medinas, see my murderer off, and then come back to the pier and yell for Pedro Ruiz.”
“Please God, the boats will be late this morning,” she said.
“Why?”