"If you can arrange it with Mr. Poindexter, you will find
me a liberal vendor. That much you can do, and I know you will believe
I shall be grateful. You can do no more, unless it be to say to your
friends that Mrs. Belle Tucker remains here only for that purpose,
and to carry out what she knows to be the wishes of her husband." She
paused, bent her pretty crest, dropped a quaint curtsey to the superior
age, the silver braid, and the gentlemanly bearing of Don Jose, and with
the passing sunshine of a smile disappeared from the corridor.
The two men remained silent for a moment, Don Jose gazing abstractedly
on the door through which she had vanished, until Poindexter, with a
return of his tolerant smile, said, "You have heard the views of Mrs.
Tucker. You know the situation as well as she does."
"Ah, yes; possibly better."
Poindexter darted a quick glance at the grave, sallow face of Don Jose,
but detecting no unusual significance in his manner, continued, "As you
see, she leaves this matter in my hands.
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