“But it’s all right now,” rejoined she, meaning that Freeman and herself were reconciled after their quarrel.
“If you are satisfied, I am,” observed Freeman, too indifferent to care what she meant.
“Only, you mustn’t take that poor young man too seriously,” she went on: “these Mexicans are absurdly demonstrative, but they don’t mean anything.”
“He won’t, if he values his skin,” said Freeman, meaning that if Don Miguel attempted to interfere between himself and Miriam he would wring his neck.
“He won’t, I promise you,” said Grace, sparkling with pleasure.
“I don’t quite see how you can help it,” returned Freeman.
“I should hope I could manage a creature like that!” murmured she, smiling.
“Well,” said Freeman, after a pause,—for Grace’s seeming change of attitude puzzled him a little,—“I’m glad you look at it that way. I don’t wish to be meddled with; that’s all.”
“You shan’t be,” she whispered; and then, just when they were approaching the point where their eyes might have been opened, in came General Trednoke. The group round the Golden Fleece broke up.
The general wore his riding-dress, and his bearing was animated, though he was covered with dust.