erfering something which
we call the unexpected." He blew great wreaths of smoke from his mouth
and watched them float out on the sun-gilded air. "We know that my
daughter is as obstinate as a pig and as wilful as a burro, therefore we
conclude that she will follow her mad heart and go with this fellow. But
there we take no account of the unexpected, eh, Lolita!" welcoming the
parrot who waddled out of the open door and came clucking and muttering
across the porch toward the two men.

Flick stirred uneasily. He was in no mood to stand Gallito's
philosophizing, and the Spaniard, seeing it, smiled as he scratched
Lolita's head. "Two people can not be thrown much together and not show
to each other what is in them," he continued. "You know that my daughter
is proud," he lifted his own head haughtily here, "and you know that
above everything her pride lies in the fact that no man can scorn her.
But this that Hanson does not believe."

This roused Flick to a sudden interest, some light came into his heavy
eyes, a dull flush rose on his cheek. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"This: Yesterday morning when that hound sat there and talked to me
there was something I said which made him forget himself in anger, and
he said: 'Me! The Black Pearl smirched by me!'"

"He said that?" Flick's tones had never been more drawlingly soft, but
there was a quality in them, an electric and ominous vibration, which
boded ill for Hanson.

Gallito nodded. "It is in his mind. It is his thought about her. If he
said it to me when he forgot himself he will surely say it to her."

"And you let him say it, Gallito? You let him go away safe after saying
it?" Flick looked at him amazed.

"I think far ahead," replied the older man. "It is the custom of a
lifetime. To act on the moment is to continually regret. Do you think I
want my daughter's tears and reproaches for the rest of my life? No, I
wish to spend my old age free of women and their mischief. This Hanson
must talk, talk, talk. Therefore, if you give him rope enough he will
hang himself before any woman's eyes."

"But when?" asked Flick, and that vibration still lingered in his voice.
"I am not so patient as you, Gallito."

The Spaniard made no reply to this and silence fell between them for a
few minutes.

"Oh!" said Flick, as if suddenly remembering something, something in
which he was not particularly interested, but which would serve as a
topic of conversation during these tense