Part 17 (2/2)

Alfonso had evidently been waiting in the shadow of an entrance down the street, perhaps hoping to see her, perhaps as our newspaper friend had seen before, to watch whether Lockwood was among her callers. As we walked along, we could see the little drama with practically no fear of being seen, so earnestly were they talking.

Even during the few minutes that the Senorita was talking with him no one would have needed to be told that she really had a great deal of regard for him, whatever might be her feelings toward Lockwood.

”I should say that she wants to see him, yet does not want to see him,”

observed Kennedy, as we came closer.

She seemed now to have become restive and impatient, eager to cut the conversation short.

It was quite evident at the same time that Alfonso was deeply in love with her, that though she tried to put him off he was persistent. I wondered whether, after all, some of the trouble had not been that during his lifetime the proud old Castilian Don Luis could never have consented to the marriage of his daughter to one of Indian blood. Had he left a legacy of fear of a love forbidden by race prejudice?

In any event, the manner of Alfonso's actions about the Mendoza apartment was such that one could easily imagine his feelings toward Lockwood, whom he saw carrying off the prize under his very eyes.

As for his mother, the Senora, we had already seen that Peruvians of her caste were also a proud old race. Her son was the apple of her eye.

Might not some of her feelings be readily accounted for? Who were these to scorn her race, her family?

We had walked along at a pace that finally brought us up with them. As Kennedy and I bowed, Alfonso seemed at first to resent our intrusion, while Inez seemed rather to welcome it as a diversion.

”Can we not expect you?” the young man repeated. ”It will be only for a few minutes this afternoon, and my mother has something of very great importance to tell.”

He was half pleading, half apologizing. Inez glanced hastily around at Kennedy, uncertain what to say, and hoping that he might indicate some course. Surrept.i.tiously, Kennedy nodded an affirmative.

”Very well, then,” she replied reluctantly, not to seem to change what had been her past refusal too suddenly. ”I may ask Professor Kennedy, too?”

He could scarcely refuse before us. ”Of course,” he agreed, quickly turning to us. ”We were speaking about meeting this afternoon at four in the tea room of the Prince Edward. You can come?”

Though the invitation was not over-gracious, Kennedy replied, ”We should be delighted to accompany Miss Inez, I am sure. We happened to be pa.s.sing this way and thought we would stop in to see if anything new had happened. Just as we turned the corner we saw you disappearing down the street, and followed. I trust everything is all right?”

”Nothing more has happened since this morning,” she returned, with a look that indicated she understood that Kennedy referred to the anonymous letter. ”I had a little shopping to do. If you will excuse me, I think I will take a car. This afternoon--at four.”

She nodded brightly as we a.s.sisted her into a taxicab and left us three standing there on the curb. For a moment it was rather awkward. To Alfonso her leaving was somewhat as though the sun had pa.s.sed under a cloud.

”Are you going up toward the University?” inquired Kennedy.

”Yes,” responded the young man reluctantly.

”Then suppose we walk. It would take only a few more minutes,”

suggested Kennedy.

Alfonso could not very well refuse, but started off at a brisk pace.

”I suppose these troubles interfere seriously with your work,” pursued Craig, as we fell into his stride.

”Yes,” he admitted, ”although much of my work just now is only polis.h.i.+ng off what I have already learned--getting your American point of view and methods. You see, I have had an idea that the ca.n.a.l will bring both countries into much closer relations than before. And if you will not learn of us, we must learn of you.”

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