He knew it would not—that he must possess his soul in patience and await the logic of events.
Don Porfidio was holding forth upon some favorite topic, and his gruff voice sounded like the distant boom of breakers on a lee shore.
Roderic bore no animosity toward the veteran—indeed, he had rather grown fond of him in times past, and the fact that he was of kin to Georgia added something to this feeling.
At the same time he wished the big senor anywhere else than here just at present.
There is such a thing as being in the way—at times even three can make a crowd.
You see, Roderic was no different from the same old general run of lovers—every man must be a law unto himself when he finds circumstances surrounding him with a network of this kind.
He bided his time and counted the minutes as though they were freighted with lead, hoping that the gentlemen might suddenly be assailed by a most amazing thirst that would demand their presence below decks.
Such a thing was apt to happen at any time where Don Porfidio was concerned, as Roderic knew full well from previous experience.
Ah! some one approached.
With his heart beating like a trip hammer from mingled eagerness and anticipation, he slunk back out of sight and waited, hoping that this might be the earnestly hoped for deliverance.