“That will be just six hours before Zuñiga is up, so you need not worry about giving him the slip,” said Captain Over, who thought that Lydia would be well out of the young Spaniard’s way. “If Miss Shore will join me in the morning we can do the shopping for the family. She speaks Spanish, and I have done this sort of thing before.” Mr. Moulton, who looked upon Over as his personal conquest, and, despite his good looks, never thought of him in the light of a marrying man, gave his message to Catalina, and pattered down the hall to break the news to his family. He was nervous but determined. Mrs. Moulton had seen all of Barcelona that was necessary for retrospect and conversation. Jane immediately began to pack her portmanteau. Lydia shot him a glance of reproach, flushed, and turned away. “I won’t have any decadent Spaniards philandering round my daughters,” said Mr. Moulton, firmly. “If you were going to marry a Spaniard I had rather it were a peasant, for they, at least, are the hope of the country. This young Zuñiga hasn’t an idea in his head beyond flirting and horse-racing. He has no education and no principles.” “I’ve talked with him more than you have,” said Lydia, with spirit, “and I think him lovely!” “Lovely? What a term to apply to any man, let alone a dissipated Spaniard! Have I not begged you, my love, to choose your adjectives—one of the first principles of style?” “I don’t write,” retorted Lydia, who was in a very naughty mood. “I have no use for style.” “I should never be surprised to see your name in our best magazines,” said Mr. Moulton, with his infinite tact. “Make this young man the hero of a story if you like. A clever Englishwoman I met yesterday, and who has lived in Spain for many years, told me that the Spanish youth is the brightest in the world, but that when he reaches the age of fourteen his brain closes up like the shell of an oyster and never opens again; the reason is that at that age he takes to immoderate smoking and various other forms of dissipation, the brain from that time on receiving neither nourishment nor encouragement. I intend to write an essay on the subject. It is most interesting. And I thought out a splendid phrase this afternoon. I’ll write it down this moment before I forget it.” He whipped out his note-book. “‘The only hope for Spain lies in the abolishment of bull-fights, beggars, and churches.’ First of all there must be a revolution in which the most worthless aristocracy in Europe will disappear forever. I would not have them beheaded, but driven out. Now, pack before you go to bed, my love, for we must be up bright and early—we have not seen the cathedral. Shall I help you?” Jane had finished. Lydia sulkily declined his assistance. He kissed them both, and went off to his nightly jottings and to pack the conjugal portmanteau.