Her man! Her man! She found herself whispering
the words.
Her eyes were wet, but there was a smile upon her lips when she
gathered up the letters which had dropped from her husband's
pocket. She wondered, with a little jealous twinge, who could be
writing to him. It seemed to her that she owned him now, and that
she could not bear to share him with any other. She studied the
inscriptions with a frown, noticing as she did so that several of
the envelopes were unopened--either Dave was careless about euch
things or else he had had no leisure in which to read his mail.
One letter was longer and heavier than the rest, and its covering,
sweat-stained and worn at the edges, came apart in her hands,
exposing several pages of type-writing in the Spanish language.
The opening words challenged her attention.
In the name of God, Amen,
Alaire read. Involuntarily her eye followed the next line:
Know all men by this public instrument that I, Maria Josefa Law,
of this vicinity--
Alaire started, Who, she asked herself, was Maria Josefa Law? Dave
had no sisters; no female relatives whatever, so far as she knew.
She glanced at the sleeping man and then back at the writing.
Pages:
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481