Now the parties must be left to
themselves."
"Costaguana for the Costaguaneros," interjected the doctor,
sardonically. "It is a fine country, and they have raised a fine crop of
hates, vengeance, murder, and rapine--those sons of the country."
"Well, I am one of them," Charles Gould's voice sounded, calmly, "and
I must be going on to see to my own crop of trouble. My wife has driven
straight on, doctor?"
"Yes. All was quiet on this side. Mrs. Gould has taken the two girls
with her."
Charles Gould rode on, and the engineer-in-chief followed the doctor
indoors.
"That man is calmness personified," he said, appreciatively, dropping on
a bench, and stretching his well-shaped legs in cycling stockings nearly
across the doorway. "He must be extremely sure of himself."
"If that's all he is sure of, then he is sure of nothing," said the
doctor. He had perched himself again on the end of the table. He nursed
his cheek in the palm of one hand, while the other sustained the
elbow. "It is the last thing a man ought to be sure of." The candle,
half-consumed and burning dimly with a long wick, lighted up from below
his inclined face, whose expression affected by the drawn-in cicatrices
in the cheeks, had something vaguely unnatural, an exaggerated
remorseful bitterness.
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