Georgia was as faithful as the stars, and the only reason he felt a little bitterness toward this fellow was in sympathy with the past.
As to jealousy, thank Heaven that evil weed had been forever plucked out by the roots from the garden of his heart, and—
But there was Julio, up to his old tricks, flirting with one of Eve's daughters.
Roderic, still remembering the past, found himself indulging in a wild hope that some indignant lover would set upon the gypsy dancer and give him a taste of Spanish vengeance.
Such however, did not happen.
The girl who had answered his signal with a wave of her snowy kerchief soon joined him, and together they pushed through the crowd as though heading for a street that broke away from the plaza.
Roderic had been close at hand, and his eyes were not closed—indeed, just about this time they seemed to be unusually wide open, as though a sudden avalanche of jealousy had swept over him.
It was not because the companion of Julio was veiled that he watched her so eagerly, so breathlessly—other women wore mantillas, and chose to conceal their patrician faces from the common herd when walking the plaza.
What then?