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Harman absorbed this news without interest, merely reminding the other that they weren’t “dealin’ in fruit,” but as two more days added themselves together producing nothing but church processions, brass bands and fireworks, Mr. Harman fell out of tune with himself and the world and the ways of this “dam garlic factory.” Davis was acting strangely, nearly always ashore and never returning till midnight. He said the deal was going through, but that it took time, that they weren’t selling a mustang, that he wouldn’t be hustled and that Harman, if he didn’t like waiting, had better go and stick his head in the harbour.

Harman closed up, but that night he accompanied Davis ashore, and instead of playing roulette at the little gambling shop in La Plazza, he hung around the Pereiras’ house in Assumption Street listening and watching in the moonlight. He heard the tune of a guitar and a girl’s voice singing La Paloma, then came a great silence that lasted an hour and a half, and then came Davis. Hidden in a dark corner, Billy saw that he was not alone. A girl was with him, come out to bid him good-night. She was short, dark and lovely, but the look of adoration on her face as she turned it up for a kiss, left Harman quite cold.