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Before the entrance door there was a tiny wooden booth adorned with red and yellow percale and a number of Spanish flags; this was the raffle stand. Leandro and Manuel took a seat in a corner and waited. The proof-reader and his family did not arrive until after ten; Milagros looked very pretty that night; she had on a light costume with blue figuring, a kerchief of black crape and white slippers.
The meal over, Senor Ignacio, Leandro, Vidal and Manuel went out to the gallery to have a nap while the women remained inside gossiping. All the neighbours had brought their sleeping-mats out, and in their undershirts, half naked, some seated, others stretched out, they were dozing on the galleries. "Hey, you," said Vidal to Manuel. "Let's be off." "Where?" "To the Pirates. We meet today.
Leandro turned towards them to pay his compliments to the Contessa, and possibly in the hope of being allowed to read his copy of verses. But here again mortification awaited him. "What, Aesop, Leandro! What put it into your head to choose the old story-teller for a model? You look the part to perfection, it is true; but what is that thing you have got in your hand?"
I should never have thought of mentioning it to you, but for thinking that it would be a real kindness to Ludovico to put a stop to it." "Thanks, Signor Conte. A rivederla!" said the Marchese, rising. "Felicissima notte, Signor Marchese," returned Leandro, rising also, and bowing to his companion. St. Apollinare in Classe
It is too bad, because no human being will read his poetry, he takes to spouting it!" said the other. "Let us look what she says," cried Ludovico di Castelmare; putting out his hand to take the little note. "Upon my word she writes a pretty hand. It is a very neatly expressed note." "Oh, you can see that much, can you?" returned Leandro. "I should think it was too!
"Your people told me, just now, that you had refused to see the Conte Leandro, when he called," remarked the lawyer, again looking puzzled. "Yes, I refused to see him because my mind was full of the conversation we had this morning. You know I promised you, Signor Fortini, that I would think over the matter again; and I was engaged in doing so.
I hated worse in Sam Hill to see that Morris chair go back you liked it so. We did a lot of honeymoonin' in that chair." They were well out of San Leandro, walking through a region of tiny holdings "farmlets," Billy called them; and Saxon got out her ukulele to cheer him with a song.
Below, on the flat land bordering the bay, lay Oakland, and across the bay was San Francisco. Between the two cities they could see the white ferry-boats on the water. Around to their right was Berkeley, and to their left the scattered villages between Oakland and San Leandro.
The woman brought the glasses in a filthy tray, and set them upon the table. Leandro pulled out sixty centimos. "They're ten apiece," corrected the woman in ill-humoured tones. "How's that?" "Because this is outside the limits." "All right; take whatever it comes to." The woman left twenty centimos on the table and returned to the counter.
Leandro, without listening to his companion, walked to the Puerta del Sol, and the two very silently turned into Montera Street and around the corner of Jardines. It was past one.
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