"The young patricians," Decoud
began suddenly in his precise English, "have indeed been dancing before they started off to the war with Great Pompey."
Young Scarfe stared, astounded. "You haven't met before," Mrs. Gould
intervened. "Mr. Decoud - Mr. Scarfe."
"Ah! But we are not going to Pharsalia,"
protested Don Jose, with nervous haste, also in English. "You should not jest like this, Martin."
Antonia's breast rose and fell with a deeper breath. The young engineer was utterly in the dark. "Guess what?" he
muttered, vaguely.
"Luckily, Montero is not a Caesar," Decoud
continued....