Nothing escaped Alessandro's notice where Ramona was
concerned. "It is Margarita," he said instantly. "Does the Senorita
want her? Shall I run and call her?"
"No," said Ramona, again displeased, she knew not why, nor in
fact knew she was displeased; "no, I was not looking for her. What
is she doing there?"
"She is washing," replied Alessandro, innocently.
"Washing at this time of day!" thought Ramona, severely. "A mere
pretext. I shall watch Margarita. The Senora would never allow
this sort of thing." And as she walked back to the house by
Alessandro's side, she meditated whether or no she would herself
speak to Margarita on the subject in the morning.
Margarita, in the mean time, was also having her season of
reflections not the pleasantest. As she soused her aprons up and
down in the water, she said to herself, "I may as well finish them
now I am here. How provoking! I've no more than got a word with
him, than she must come, calling him away. And he flies as if he
was shot on an arrow, at the first word. I'd like to know what's
come over the man, to be so different.
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