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Doña Teresa walked along with Doña Josefa, and talked with her about her rheumatism and about how badly the animals behaved, and how handsome Doña Josefa's purple geese were, until she turned in at their own gate. When she was in their own yard once more, she set the turkey down and untied his head.
Thus they continued for half an hour, running to the southward and eastward, when I noticed the Havanero, who had gradually crept up under the Josefa's lee quarter, hoist his colours and pennant, and fire a gun at her.
Josefa's conscience drove her to make further amends. She held out her hand penitently. There was a bright, unshed drop in each of her eyes. "Please forgive me, Mr. Givens, won't you? I'm only a girl, you know, and I was frightened at first. I'm very, very sorry I shot Bill. You don't know how ashamed I feel. I wouldn't have done it for anything." Givens took the proffered hand.
Sooth to say, however, I scarcely felt in cue just then either to admire the Josefa's paces or to take much note of the wonderful picture presented by the river, with its brown mud-tinted waters lashed into fury by the breath of the tropical tempest and chequered here and there with the shadows of the scurrying clouds, or lighted up by the phosphorescence which tipped each wave with a crest of scintillating silvery stars.
She sat there among the youngest; her fingers worked among the spools, and now and then she looked up like a bird. They had got over the angry dispute about Josefa's new braided jacket. She need not try to persuade any one that she had got the money from her stepmother; no, let any one who liked believe that, but neither Gunda nor Jakobina did!
He would lie down and roll over for a piece of meat. When he saw you he thought he was going to get something to eat from you." Suddenly Josefa's eyes opened wide. "I might have shot you!" she exclaimed. "You ran right in between. You risked your life to save your pet! That was fine, Mr. Givens. I like a man who is kind to animals." Yes; there was even admiration in her gaze now.
Josefa's conscience drove her to make further amends. She held out her hand penitently. There was a bright, unshed drop in each of her eyes. "Please forgive me, Mr. Givens, won't you? I'm only a girl, you know, and I was frightened at first. I'm very, very sorry I shot Bill. You don't know how ashamed I feel. I wouldn't have done it for anything." Givens took the proffered hand.
"Disguise do you call it? Why, it is the usual costume!" "True, Senorita; but not for a grand senora like you. Carrambo!" "Well, I think I must be disguised, as I passed several acquaintances who would not bow to me! Ha! ha!" "Pobrecita ita ita!" continued she, suddenly changing her tone, and regarding Josefa's companion with a look of kind sympathy. "How she must have suffered! Poor dear girl!
He would lie down and roll over for a piece of meat. When he saw you he thought he was going to get something to eat from you." Suddenly Josefa's eyes opened wide. "I might have shot you!" she exclaimed. "You ran right in between. You risked your life to save your pet! That was fine, Mr. Givens. I like a man who is kind to animals." Yes; there was even admiration in her gaze now.
It'll break the boys all up when they hear about it. But you couldn't tell, of course, that Bill was just trying to play with you." Josefa's black eyes burned steadily upon him. Ripley Givens met the test successfully. He stood rumpling the yellow-brown curls on his head pensively. In his eye was regret, not unmingled with a gentle reproach.
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