Jacket, too, became thin and gray about the lips. But he
complained not at all and he laughed a great deal. To him the
morrow was always another day of brilliant promise toward which he
looked with never-failing eagerness; and not for a single moment
did he question the ultimate success of their endeavor. Such an
example did much for the older man. Together they practised the
strictest, harshest economy, living on a few cents a day, while
they methodically searched the city from limit to limit.
At first O'Reilly concerned himself more than a little with the
problem of escape, but as time wore on he thought less and less
about that. Nor did he have occasion to waste further concern
regarding his disguise. That it was perfect he proved when several
of his former acquaintances passed him by and when, upon one
occasion, he came face to face with old Don Mario de Castano. Don
Mario had changed; he was older, his flesh had softened, and it
hung loosely upon his form. He appeared worried, harassed, and
O'Reilly recalled rumors that the war had ruined him. The man's
air of dejection seemed to bear out the story.
They had been enemies, nevertheless O'Reilly felt a sudden impulse
to make himself known to the Spaniard and to appeal directly for
news of Rosa's fate. But Don Mario, he remembered in time, had a
reputation for vindictiveness, so he smothered the desire.
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