e had some difficulty in getting out of her wedding-finery. There was a
momentary temptation to call for help. But she thought better of this, and
in the end she came down-stairs like a girl, in a light, clinging dress of
Chinese silk, with a girdle and tassel at the waist, and a red ribbon
woven into the throat. You might have thought she was seventeen or
eighteen. As a matter of fact, she was only twenty-two.

Harboro met her and kissed her, and led her to the table. He had a
forceful manner. He was hungry, and it seemed that his efficiency extended
to a knowledge of how a dinner should be served.

He took his seat at the end of the table where the roast was, and the
carving implements. At Sylvia's place there was a percolator, and the
coffee-cups, and the sugar and cream.

Antonia, wizened and dark, came and went silently. To the people of her
race a wedding means a _fiesta_, a village hubbub, a dance, and varying
degrees of drunkenness. She was not herself in this house of a wedding
supper for two, and a prosaic attitude toward the one event in life when
money ought to be spent freely, even in the face of impending bankruptcy.

But Harboro speedily set her at ease. They were there to eat their
supper--that was all there was to it. He wasn't drinking toasts, or making
love. He seemed thoroughly contented; and it didn't occur to him, clearly,
that there was any occasion for making a noise or simulating an excitement
which he did not feel.

Antonia regarded him furtively, from over his shoulder, as she waited for
Sylvia's plate with its portion of the roast. He was a strange _hombre._
Well, she had known big, quiet men before. They were like rocks. It was
all very well for a woman if she stood behind such a man for protection as
long as she remained quiet; but Heaven help her if she ever undertook to
beat him with her fists. She would only break her hands and accomplish
nothing else whatever.

Sylvia was not in a mood, seemingly, to eat very heartily; but Harboro
thought he understood that, and he made allowances. He did not urge her,
unless reassuring tones and comfortable topics may be said to consist of
urging.

He regarded her with bright eyes when she poured the coffee; and when her
hands trembled he busied himself with trifles so that he would not seem to
notice. He produced a cigar and cut the end off with his penknife, and lit
it deliberately.

Only once--just before they got up from the table--did he a