Then--But enough of this. You are
unstrung, you wish to be alone with your thoughts, and what I have
to say can wait for a few hours. In the mean time, may I beg the
hospitality of your ranch for myself and my men?"
Alaire acquiesced mechanically. Longorio saluted her fingers in
his customary manner, and then, with a look eloquent of things
unsaid, he went out to see to the comfort of his command.
Alaire sank into the nearest chair, her nerves quivering, her mind
in a turmoil. This Mexican was detestable, and he was far from
being the mere maker of audaciously gallant speeches, the
poetically fervent wooer of every pretty woman, she had blindly
supposed him. His was no sham ardor; the man was hotly, horribly
in earnest. There had been a glint of madness in his eyes. And he
actually seemed to think that she shared his infatuation. It was
intolerable. Yet Longorio, she was sure, had an abundance of
discretion; he would not dare to offer her violence. He had pride,
too; and in his way he was something of a gentleman. So far, she
had avoided giving him offense. But if once she made plain to him
how utterly loathsome to her was his pursuit, she was sure that he
would cease to annoy her.
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