And my poor Maria, she will be as dough for them to knead as they desire to!" And, in fact, as he was thus thinking, the Senora was lying awake in her bed, anticipating her confessor's next visit.

She was almost glad the norther was still blowing.

It would give her another day's respite; and "so many things happen as the clock goes round," she reflected.

Perhaps even her Roberto might arrive; it would not be more wonderful than the visit of Luis Alveda.
But very early in the day she saw the father hurrying up the oleander avenue.

The wind tossed his gown, and blew his hat backward and sideways, and compelled him to make undignified haste.