That wayward blood of hers surged in her veins, but Dom Corria's calm glance dwelt on her, and the spasm passed.
"Yes, father," she said dutifully.
He stroked his chin as he went out to pronounce a funeral oration on those who had fallen during the fight.
"I think," said he reflectively, "I think that Carmela dislikes that girl.

I wonder why ?" Philip had never, to his knowledge, seen the Senhora De Sylva.

Watts spoke of her, remarking that she was "a reel pleasant young lady, a bit flighty, p'raps, but, then, 'oo could tell wot any gal would do one minnit from the next ?" And that was all.
It was, therefore, something more than a surprise when the sallow-faced, willowy girl, black-haired, black-eyed, and most demure of manner, whom he remembered to have met in the gateway of Las Flores early on the previous day, came to his tent and asked for him.
She introduced herself, and Philip was most polite.
"My father sent me----" she began.
"I ought to have waited on the President," he said, seeing that she hesitated, "but several of my men are wounded, and we have so few doctors." She smiled, and Carmela could redeem much of her plainness of feature by the singular charm of her smile.
"Dom Corria is a good doctor himself," she said.
"His skill will be much appreciated in Brazil at the present moment," said he, rather bewildered.
"He mends broken hearts," she persisted.
"Ah, a healer, indeed!" but he frowned a little.
"He is in demand to-day.

He asked me to tell you of one most successful operation.

The--er--the engagement between Miss Iris Yorke--is that the name ?--and Mr .-- Mr .-- dear me----" "Bulmer," scowled Philip, a block of ice in the warm air of Brazil.
"Yes, that is it--well--it is ended.