Carmela's head was bent.

A gauze-like mantilla covered her black hair, and, strange though it may seem, one woman's small waist and slim figure can be amazingly like the same physical attributes in another woman.
But San Benavides wondered why the cold Ingleza had surrendered so silently.

He expected at least a scream, a struggle, an impassioned demand to be released.

He was prepared for anything save a dumb acceptance of this extraordinary raid.
So he began to explain.
"One word, Senhora!" he muttered.

"You must think me mad.