ty to our sex in their selfish devotion to affairs in which we are
debarred from joining them, and yet they wonder that we prefer the
society of men who are removed by birth, tradition, and position from
this degrading kind of selfishness."

"But that was scarcely true of your own husband. HE was not only
a successful man in business, but we can see that he was equally
successful in his relations to at least one of the fastidious sex," said
Brace, maliciously glancing at Don Ramon.

Mrs. Brimmer received the innuendo with invulnerable simplicity.

"Mr. Brimmer is, I am happy to say, NOT a business man. He entered into
certain contracts having more or less of a political complexion, and
carrying with them the genius but not the material results of trade.
That he is not a business man--and a successful one--my position here at
the present time is a sufficient proof," she said triumphantly. "And I
must also protest," she added, with a faint sigh, "against Mr. Brimmer
being spoken of in the past tense by anybody. It is painfully premature
and ominous!"

She drew her mantilla across her shoulders with an expression of
shocked sensitiveness which completed the humiliation of Brace and the
subjugation of Don Ramon. But, unlike most of her sex, she was wise
in the moment of victory. She cast a glance over her fan at Brace, and
turned languidly to Dona Isabel.

"Mr. Brace must surely want some refreshment after his long ride. Why
don't you seize this opportunity to show him the garden and let him
select for himself the herbs he requires for that dreadful American
drink; Miss Chubb and your sister will remain with me to receive the
Comandante's secretary and the Doctor when they come."

"She's more than my match," whispered Brace to Dona Isabel, as they left
the corridor together. "I give in. I don't understand her: she frightens
me."

"That is of your conscience! It is that you would understand the Dona
Leonor--your dear Miss Keene--better! Ah! silence, imbecile! this Dona
Barbara is even as thou art--a talking parrot. She will have that the
Comandante's secretary, Manuel, shall marry Mees Chubb, and that the
Doctor shall marry my sister. But she knows not that Manuel--listen so
that you shall get sick at your heart and swallow your moustachio!--that
Manuel loves the beautiful Leonor, and that Leonor loves not him, but
Don Diego; and that my sister loathes the little Doctor. And this Dona
Barbara, that makes your liver w