to herself, as she had thought before, that there were more ways than one of “becoming again as a little child.”
But the man had a sharp, watchful look in the corner of his eye: to see if she were feeling some covert hostility. He wanted her to acquiesce in the hymn, in the drum, in the whole mood. Like a child he wanted her to acquiesce. But if she were going to be hostile, he would be quick to be first in the hostility. Her hostile judgment would make a pure enemy of him.
Ah, all men were alike!
At that moment the man stood up, with soft suddenness, and she heard Cipriano’s voice from the balcony above:
“What is it, Lupe?”
“Està la Patróna,” answered the servant.
Kate rose to her