day night and what dames he was out with. Now she's pullin' the broken-heart stuff an' she means part of it anyway. But run away, girlie, you're wastin your time. He's nice and polite, but he'll never fall for you."
It was a shrewd, unconscious paraphrase and judgment, for the stranger answered Linda with a well-gauged courtesy that didn't satisfy the hunger in those lovely eyes at all. Still, as she took the order, she let her hand fall with a designed carelessness on his shoulder, and once on his dark hair, which held the wave that all women envy and childishly love to fondle. But he never responded to the mute appeal.
At last Linda deigned to take their own order, Carlotta whispering to the girl to substitute a less vicious drink for the inflaming native concoction Phil ordered. When she returned they sipped their liquor in silence, hoping for some revelation of the stranger's presence in this place. Had he deliberately followed them from Boston to Salthaven and from there to this unfrequented port? That was not quite the solution, for his dreaming, somewhat downcast gaze never searched the courtyard or even cast a glance towards their table. They drew their chairs back further within the shadows of the many-fissured wall and the whispering tree whose trunk rose between the two tables, and listened intently. The low well-modulated voices did not carry to the listeners, and the only stray expressions they caught were in French.
Carlotta gruffly whispered:
"What was the matter with you, Mac, that you didn't learn to pollyvransey in all your travels?"
