noon
With a perfectly good dinner waiting for him at home , why did he insist on sneaking around the steamers from Scotland , waiting for the watchman to turn his back so as to be off with a dried codfish under his arm ? No , that boy was to be the death of her ! Twelve years old , no inclination to work , and not the slightest fear or respect for her , in spite of all the broomsticks she had broken over his back . _ Siñá _ Tona usually confided her troubles to a certain Martinez , a young policeman who patrolled that part of the shore , spending the noon hours under the café shelter , his rifle across his knees , his eyes vaguely fixed on the horizon of the sea , and his ears filled with the running plaint of the tavernkeeper . A handsome chap Martinez was , an Andalusian from Huelva , slender and trim of person , natty as could be in the old service uniform which he sported with a truly martial swagger , twirling the corner of his blond mustache with an air that people called `` distinguished . '' _ Siñá _ Tona admired the man . After all , breeding will come out !