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"No, thank you." "Oh, I dthought you vould like." "Where is it?" "Yust ofer dthere, dthree steps dthat round house." "I'd better see it perhaps while I have time," I think, and I walk towards the circular building indicated. Baron de Bach keeps at my side. He tries the door shakes it but it is evidently locked; he leans down and looks through the keyhole.
I see the admiration in Baron de Bach's face. "You like that type?" I ask. "It ees part of dthe landscape," he answers; "ve like it in dthe picture. Ve put more deeferent vomans in our hearts and homes." "H'm!" coughs Mrs. Steele. "My dear, the boatman is coming back with a huge bunch of cocoanuts." "Yes," the Baron says, "I dthought you vould like to taste dthe milk."
Roses everywhere fill the afternoon with fragrance, and the strong aroma of ripening bananas and pines makes the hot air heavy. "Ees it like vhat you dthought?" asks the Peruvian. "Much better in some respects," I say, "but the houses look dreadfully dreary outside; they are more like prisons than homes, with their great blank walls and here and there an arched and grated window."
He stops an instant, eying me doubtfully; a moment longer he hesitates, and then, seeing that Mrs. Steele is busily talking of the terrors of the night to a group of passengers, he continues in a lower tone: "I dthought about you, it is needless dthat I zay. I hurry on mit my long ofercoat and hold mine pistol deep in mine mine how you zay?" "Pocket."
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