"That
was what I was going to say."
"What makes you think so?" asked Felipe.
"I don't know," Ramona said, still more hesitatingly. Now that she
had said it, she was sorry. Felipe looked curiously at her. Hesitancy
like this, doubts, uncertainty as to her impressions, were not
characteristic of Ramona. A flitting something which was far from
being suspicion or jealousy, and yet was of kin to them both, went
through Felipe's mind,-- went through so swiftly that he was scarce
conscious of it; if he had been, he would have scorned himself.
Jealous of an Indian sheep-shearers Impossible! Nevertheless, the
flitting something left a trace, and prevented Felipe from forgetting
the trivial incident; and after this, it was certain that Felipe would
observe Ramona more closely than he had done; would weigh her
words and actions; and if she should seem by a shade altered in
either, would watch still more closely. Meshes were closing
around Ramona. Three watchers of her every look and act,--
Alessandro in pure love, Margarita in jealous hate, Felipe in love
and perplexity.
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