outside the window, taking off his cloth cap and bowing low to her. A cloth cap!—She knew he was a great Fascista, the reactionary Knights of Cortes held him in great esteem.
Kate bowed coldly.
He bowed low again, with the cloth cap.
Kate said not a word.
He stood on one foot, then on the other, and then marched forward up the gravel walk, towards the kitchen quarters, as if he had not seen either Kate or General Viedma. In a few moments he marched back, as if he could not see either Kate or the General, through the open door.
Cipriano looked at the passing stout figure of Don Antonio in a cloth cap as if it were the wind blowing.
“It is my landlord!” said Kate. “I expect he wants to know if I am taking on the