"Why, the way we thrust ourselves upon this man is horrible!" she
cried. "Can you not see that we are not welcome, that he wishes
us gone?"
Da Souza smiled in a superior manner; the smile of a man who, if
only he would, could explain all things. He patted his daughter on
the head with a touch which was meant to be playful.
"My little one," he said, "you are mistaken! Leave these matters
to those who are older and wiser than you. It is but just now that
my good friend said to me, 'Da Souza,' he say, 'I will not have you
take your little daughter away!' Oh, we shall see! We shall see!"
Julie's tears crept through the fingers closely pressed over her
eyes.
"I do not believe it," she sobbed. "He has scarcely looked at me
all the time, and I do not want him to. He despises us all - and
I don't blame him. It is horrid!"
Mrs. Da Souza, with a smile which was meant to be arch, had
something to say, but the arrival of breakfast broke up for a while
the conversation. Her husband, whom Nature had blessed with a
hearty appetite at all times, was this morning after his triumph
almost disposed to be boisterous. He praised the cooking, chaffed
the servants to their infinite disgust, and continually urged his
wife and daughter to keep pace with him in his onslaught upon the
various dishes which were placed before him.
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