"What is it?"
"She instructed me to tell you that she would see you very soon."
"Thanks, señorita. And may I ask—who was the cheerful, frolicsome individual who flattered me with that polite toast? Is he one of the royal family, taking a little vacation in this neighborhood?"
The girl reddened, then laughed.
"No, señor. He is well known in this part of our country. His name is Don Robledo."
Warren lit another cigarette, and studied her attractive face with the gallant interest of a Southerner, who is always prone to admire beauty. She was embarrassed, yet pleased, under the unmistakable scrutiny.
"Don Robledo. He seems to be well acquainted with you, señorita. Is he one of the family?"
"No, but he wishes to be!" she snapped out. "And he shall never be until he changes his manners and...."
"And his face? I don't really care for his face. If I were a girl I would never leave home and mother for that face. But of course, that's none of my business."
He stopped for an instant to absorb the rowdy racket from the taproom.