The old man regarded him with shrewd, kindly eyes. He had the strain of Spanish blood, condoning many follies of youth.
"So!" he said, kindly. "Thou comest here to dance with the girls of San Juan, that the other girl may be forgotten? Ai—yi!—these other sweethearts are fellows who make much trouble!—so?"
"It is something more than a sweetheart keeps me away," remarked the young fellow after a slight pause. "A mere sweetheart is not such a barricade; most of us are perverse enough to think it rather an incentive."
"You too, my friend?"
"Who knows?"
The old man puffed out another cigaretto and threw the stump away before he spoke.
"The wives of other men it is wise to go clear of, my friend."
Keith laughed more than the remark called for; in fact, his amusement dispelled the murky thoughts by which he had been driven to the hospitable veranda.
"True—very true; but which of us is always wise?"
Alvara made no reply to this, only shook his head, and the other, noting the perplexity of it, chuckled.