“And you really did pity her?”
This question was put with an earnestness that sounded somewhat strange at the moment.
“I really did. The creature seemed so mortified—”
“She seemed mortified, did she?”
“Of course. She left the room immediately after, and has not returned since. No doubt she has gone home, poor devil!”
“Poor devil! Is that the extent of your pity?”
“Well, after all, it must be confessed she was a superb deception: a finer dancer I never saw—I beg pardon, I except my present partner—a good foot, an elegant figure, and then to turn out—”
“What?”
“Una negrilla!”
“I fear, monsieur, you Americans are not very gallant towards the ladies of colour. It is different here in Mexico, which you term despotic.”