Slowly he released her.
“Where will she find thees money?” he asked.
“She does not know. Perhaps it is not here at all. But there was a great heap of laces, worth much money, which Señor Cristoval hid in the wall to keep for Leighton.”
Miguel laughed. He seemed suddenly to have regained his equanimity. He began rolling another cigarette.
“They will be old, by now, thees lace,” said he.
“A lace is better when it is old,” asserted the girl.
The man paused, looked at the half-made cigarette and tossed it away. Then he glanced around to see if they were observed and taking Inez’ arm—gently, this time—he led her away from the path and into a thicket of orange trees.
“Thees Meeldred,” he said in soft tones, “you hate.”
“No, no! I do not hate her now. I love Meeldred.”
“So!” he said, drawing in his breath and regarding the girl with surprise. “You tell me once she is witch-woman.”