Signora Teresa was beside herself with terror.
"Ah! the traitor! the traitor!" she mumbled, almost inaudibly.

"Now we are going to be burnt; and I bent my knee to him.

No! he must run at the heels of his English." She seemed to think that Nostromo's mere presence in the house would have made it perfectly safe.

So far, she, too, was under the spell of that reputation the Capataz de Cargadores had made for himself by the waterside, along the railway line, with the English and with the populace of Sulaco.

To his face, and even against her husband, she invariably affected to laugh it to scorn, sometimes good-naturedly, more often with a curious bitterness.