Ah yes!”
“The older one is my cousin—Owen Rhys.”
“Owen Rhys! Ah yes! I think I saw in the newspaper you were here in town—visiting Mexico.”
He spoke in a peculiar quiet voice, rather suppressed, and his quick eyes glanced at her, and at his surroundings, like those of a man perpetually suspecting an ambush. But his face had a certain silent hostility, under his kindness. He was saving his nation’s reputation.
“They did put in a not very complimentary note,” said Kate. “I think they don’t like it that we stay in the Hotel San Remo. It is too poor and foreign. But we are none of us rich, and we like it better than those other places.”
“The Hotel San Remo? Where is that?”
“In the Avenida del Peru. Won’t you come and see us there, and meet my