Its principal feature, however, was the blue paint that covered the walls, a blue of a particularly insistent shade which, in the solidity of its expanse, seemed to make all the enclosed space and objects livid. The tall shutters on one side, Lee discovered, opened on the upper porch and a prospect of the tracks beyond. “If I stayed here a night I'd be raving,” Savina declared. “Lee, such a color! And the place, the people--did you notice that carriageful of black women that went by us along the street? There were only three, but they were so loosely fat that they filled every inch. Their faces were drenched with powder and you could see their revolting breasts through their muslin dresses; terrible creatures reeking with unspeakable cologne. They laughed at me, cursed us, I am sure.” “We'll have to put up with it till Daniel comes,” he observed philosophically; and, on the low straight chairs, they gazed around so disgustedly that they both laughed. “I suppose he is out somewhere in the cane.” Savina asked what they would do if he were away. He might be in Santiago. The company had other estates. “Not now,” Lee decided; “what they call the grinding season has just begun, and every hour is important. The least thing gone wrong might cost thousands of dollars.” The correctness of his assumption was upheld by an announcement unintelligible except for the comforting fact that Daniel was below. “Perhaps I had better see him first,” Lee suggested diplomatically, and Savina assented. Daniel Randon was both tall and fat, a slow impressive bulk in white linen with a smooth impassive face and considering brown eyes. “This,” he said unremarkably, “is a surprise. But I am, of course, glad; particularly since Venalez reported that Fanny was with you.” “She isn't,” Lee replied tersely; there had been no cable from Eastlake, he saw, and he must plunge boldly into what he had to say. “I am sorry to tell you that she is at home. But I'm here, and not by myself.” A slight expression of annoyance twitched at his brother's contained mouth. “No, you are making a mistake. I have left Fanny, Daniel. I thought perhaps you would have heard.” “Our telegraph system is undependable,” was all that the other, the younger, Randon answered. “You don't know, then. A Mrs. Grove is with me; but she is that only until the divorces can be arranged; and I counted on you--” “Divorces?” The single word was accompanied by a faint lifting of Daniel's eyebrows. “She was married, too,” Lee explained. “You will understand better when you talk to Savina. We are not young feather-heads, Daniel; this is serious, final. Really, we came to Cuba on your account, to see you. When I tried to compose a telegram from Havana, telling you something of the situation, I couldn't--all the idiotic tourists hanging about! Well, here we are, or here I am, and Savina is upstairs, most anxious to meet you.”