But, as he told himself, twisting his shoulders irritably, there was
something about this old Spaniard which got on his nerves. A quality of
composed patience, as if he, at least, never doubted the successful
outcome of his plans; a rock-like imperturbability against which
violence or vituperation shattered itself and fell harmless.
"Look here, Gallito," again he adopted a conciliatory manner, leaning
his elbows on the table, as if prepared for a long discussion, after
first helping himself to another glass of cognac and a fresh cigarette,
"what's the use of a row, anyway? Now, why can't we come to some
agreement. What you say about your daughter's abilities is all true,
every word of it. That's the reason I'm so keen to get her. I know, and
I'm frank enough to confess it, that out here in the desert, with not
much to think about, on a vacation, and all, why--I kind of lost my head
about her. She's a beautiful woman, Gallito, no need to tell you that.
But you know, and I know, that a man can always shut down on that sort
of thing if he's got to. My reputation ain't what it ought to be, no one
knows that better than I, or feels it more; but, honest to God, Gallito,
I ain't as black as I've been painted. No man is, probably. Now, what I
got to say is this--"
"No need to say it, Mr. Hanson," interrupted Gallito, who had been
twisting his mouth wryly during these remarks.
Again Hanson concealed his rising anger, although the color rose in his
cheeks.
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