It is only fair to explain that he had not come hither with any lover-like designs towards Miriam.

Grace was the magnet that had drawn his steps to the Trednokes' garden, and the truth is that that enterprising young lady was not without a suspicion that he might turn up.

Could this information have been imparted to Freeman, it would have saved much trouble; but, as it was, not only did he jump to the conclusion that Don Miguel was his rival (and, seemingly, a not unsuccessful one), but a similar misgiving as to Freeman's purposes towards Grace found its way into the heart of the Spaniard.

It was a most perverse trick of fate.
The two men contemplated each other, each after his own fashion: Don Miguel pale, glaring, bristling; Freeman smiling, insolent, hectoring.
"Why are you here, senor ?" demanded the former, at length.
"Partly, senor, because such is my pleasure.

Partly, to inform you that your presence here offends me, and to humbly request you to be off." "Senor, this is an impertinence." "Senor, one is not impertinent to prowling greasers.