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Chapter 8

           Shecamestraightonandlaidherhandonthemare’sneckwithatimid,coquettishlookupwardsoutofthecornerofhereyes.

           “Querido,”shemurmured,caressingly,“whydoyoupretendnottoseemewhenIpass?”

           “BecauseIdon’tlovetheeanymore,”saidNostromo,deliberately,afteramomentofreflectivesilence.

           Thehandonthemare’snecktrembledsuddenly.Shedroppedherheadbeforealltheeyesinthewidecircleformedroundthegenerous,theterrible,theinconstantCapatazdeCargadores,andhisMorenita.

           Nostromo,lookingdown,sawtearsbeginningtofalldownherface.

           “Hasitcome,then,everbelovedofmyheart?”shewhispered.“Isittrue?”

           “No,”saidNostromo,lookingawaycarelessly.“Itwasalie.Ilovetheeasmuchasever.”

           “Isthattrue?”shecooed,joyously,hercheeksstillwetwithtears.

           “Itistrue.”

           “Trueonthelife?”

           “Astrueasthat;butthoumustnotaskmetoswearitontheMadonnathatstandsinthyroom.”AndtheCapatazlaughedalittleinresponsetothegrinsofthecrowd.

           Shepoutedveryprettyalittleuneasy.

           “No,Iwillnotaskforthat.Icanseeloveinyoureyes.”Shelaidherhandonhisknee.“Whyareyoutremblinglikethis?Fromlove?”shecontinued,whilethecavernousthunderingofthegombowentonwithoutapause.

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