"The woman can't interest you now. Also you have money--his money."
"Still I hate him."
"You Greeks are like children. Your hatred is unreasonable; there is no
cause for it."
"Unreasonable and not to be reasoned away."
"Well, why worry about him? He won't follow you to Benhur, I fancy."
"It doesn't worry me generally; but when you mention him my hate springs
up again. I forget him when I am by myself."
"Forget him now."
And they drank coffee in silence.
Darkness came on, and the blue night mist. Gregorio was impatient to
see his son. He gazed intently at the door of the opposite house,
little heeding madam, who was busy with preparations for the evening's
entertainment of her customers. Suddenly he saw a woman leave the house,
hail a passing carriage, and drive rapidly down the street toward the
Place Mehemet Ali. Gregorio, with a cry of pleasure, rose and left the
cafe. Madam Marx followed him to the door and called a good-night to
him. Gregorio stood irresolutely in the middle of the road. He had
promised the boy a boat, and he blamed himself for having forgotten to
buy it.
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