The tide of
it scorched his face as if flaying it. And so--if you'll
understand--in the very moment of knowing himself twice vulnerable--
no, ten times as vulnerable--this Farrell, loving this woman, became
a man: and three small ragamuffins stood about him and witnessed the
outward process.
The outward process ended in his fishing out three _dineros_ from his
trouser pocket and bestowing one on each of them--twopence-halfpenny
or thereabouts is a godsend to a juvenile in San Ramon.
"There, little fools!" he said. "Take the stranger's bag along and
don't quarrel any more. There is nothing in this world so silly as
quarrelling."
With that he went back down the hill, and so came on Foe and on
Santa, talking down to Foe from the balcony porch.
"Hallo, old man!" said Farrell, looking Foe straight in the eyes: and
"Hallo!" answered Foe, looking Farrell straight in the eyes. Santa,
gazing down from the rail, thought it strange that they did not shake
hands, as Britons and Americans do when they met.
"I found three rascals," said Farrell easily, "scrapping for the
honour of delivering a suit-case at Engelbaum's hotel--a suit-case
that I recognised.
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