remove him?
The young man sat tense with will to annihilate his beetle-like intruder, and Kate used all her Irish malice to help him.
“Don’t you wonder who was his tailor?” she asked, with a flicker in her voice.
Villiers looked at the femalish black coat of the Mexican, and made an arch grimace at Kate.
“I should say he hadn’t one. Perhaps did it himself.”
“Very likely!” Kate laughed venomously.
It was too much. The man got up and betook himself, rather diminished, to another spot.
“Triumph!” said Kate. “Can’t you do the same, Owen?”
Owen laughed uncomfortably, glancing down at the man between his knees as he might glance at a dog with rabies, when it had its back to him.
“Apparently not yet, unfortunately,” he said, with some constraint, turning his nose away again from the Mexican,