There was in his lighting of that cigar a curious air of triumph that puzzled me very much, and set me wondering as to its cause.
CHAPTER VI THE MAN AT THE CONFESSIONAL
My uncle took Angelo's arm and led the way down the mountain path, leaving me to follow with Daphne. For some little time we walked in silence, and then she led me to the subject that was uppermost in my mind.
"What is the matter, Frank? You have not been yourself this morning."
Her statement was correct; I had not been myself. Jealousy had wrought a change in my character, causing me to act and speak in a way that, upon consideration, I admit to have been the reverse of amiable.
"It seems to me," I replied in an aggrieved tone, as if I had some solid ground of complaint, "that since our departure from England we have been playing Hamlet with the part of Hamlet left out."
"Why, Frank, what do you mean?" she asked.
"O, nothing much. That slave of the palette seems to have taken out a patent for the monopoly of your conversation, that's all."