At least, he could spare her
this blow.
They drove home more silently than they had come. He was thinking over
the best way to do what he was going to do. The evening before they had
sat together in front of the fire in the living-room, while her old
duenna had nodded in a big arm-chair. So they would sit to-night and
to-morrow night.
He would send at once for the papers upon which his claim depended, and
he would burn them before her eyes. After that they would be
friends--and, in the end, much more than friends.
He was still dreaming his air-castle, when they drove through the gate
that led to her home. In front of the porch a saddled bronco trailed its
rein, and near by stood a young man in riding-breeches and spurs. He
turned at the sound of wheels; and the man in the buggy saw that it was
Manuel Pesquiera.
The Spaniard started when he recognized the other, and his eyes grew
bright. He moved forward to assist the young woman in alighting; but, in
spite of his bad knee, the Coloradoan was out of the rig and before him.
"_Buenos, amigo_" she nodded to Don Manuel, lightly releasing the hand
of Muir.
"_Buenos, senorita_" returned that young man. "I behold you are already
acquaint' with Mr. Richard Gordon, whose arrival is to me very
unexpect'."
She seemed to grow tall before her guest's eyes; to stand in a kind of
proud splendor that had eclipsed her girlish slimness.
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