It seemed that he carried with him always the scrap of paper that she had hidden within her dress until the moment that she gave it to him.
He laid the two letters side by side and compared them.
"The writing is the writing of Juanita," he said; "but the words are not.
They are spelt correctly!" He folded the letters again, with his determined smile, and placed them in his pocket.

Sarrion, smoking a cigarette by the stove, glanced at his son and knew that Juanita's fate was fixed.

For good or ill, for happiness or misery, she was destined to marry Marcos de Sarrion if the whole church of Rome should rise up and curse his soul and hers for the deed.
Sarrion appeared to have no suggestions to make.

He continued to smoke reflectively while he warmed himself at the stove.

He was wise enough to perceive that his must now be the secondary part.