Carlita did not take it. She stood there for a moment haughtily erect, dumb with indignation, her fierce anger rising in bitter words to her lips; but she repressed all sound, forbade herself the utterance of the torrent of hot, wrathful words that arose to her lips, and bowed coldly.
Pierrepont withdrew his hand and placed it carelessly upon the back of his chair, as if he had not observed the cut, and said quietly:
"It is a great pleasure to me to meet you, Miss de Barryos. Miss Chalmers tells me that your father was a Mexican. I knew Juan de Barryos. I met him in the City of Mexico a number of years ago. He was the nephew of the Count of Regla, one of the old Spanish grandees, and one of the most picturesque characters in Mexican history. Juan de Barryos was an owner of mines of enormous extent, as was his uncle, the more world-famous Count of Regla. Juan de Barryos was a relative of your father?"
He asked the question curiously, half interrogation, half exclamation, and she answered proudly:
"Juan de Barryos was my father's brother and my guardian until the time of his death."
"Really! Then by my friendship for your uncle I ought to be allowed to claim some sort of acquaintanceship with you, ought I not?"
"I never saw my uncle but twice," she returned, coldly. "His friends were not mine."
Jessica crimsoned, half with anger, half amusement. She was not anxious that Carlita should make a good impression upon this man, but her reply was almost rude. Still Pierrepont was unruffled. He turned indifferently to Jessica:
"I am afraid I have overstayed my time," he exclaimed. "May I call it an engagement and bring poor Winthrop tonight?"
"Decidedly."