Roderic had indeed been up against it good and hard since leaving his cousin at the breakfast table.
He had entered upon his duties of the day with a vim, desirous of closing his accounts so that he might get away on the next morning, if Cleo and her captain were willing.
During the morning he was haunted by certain facts which bore heavily upon the relations existing between present conditions and those that prevailed two years back.
The girl from Porto Rico occupied a prime place in all these reflections.
Every word that had been spoken by her on the preceding night came again before his mental vision, and underwent a revised scrutiny.
New solutions sprang up, for he was able to better understand certain things that were uttered.
Still there was much to puzzle him.
How came she to know of Cleo, his cousin—true, in times past, when paradise seemed opening to his feet—ah, what a fool's dream he had indulged in—he must have frequently spoken of his cousin, for she was often in his mind; but that would not account for her pertinent remarks concerning Cleo's attachment for him.
Was it jealousy prompted this?
Roderic flushed with pleasure at the very thought of such a thing, since the green-eyed monster can never lodge in a human heart unless there still remains love to stir the depths.