"At least you might have trusted me, Marcos."
"Have I said that I do not?"
"You have not said so in so many words, but I know you don't. Besides, you are leaving Chili to-morrow night."
"How do you know that?"
"I forget, but it's true, isn't it, Marcos?—and you will take me with you, won't you? Even if you no longer love me, you will have pity on me? You will not leave me to their mercy? I am so tired of this life of spying and conspiracy, and I would be so faithful to you."
Her voice trembled. He stopped his restless pacing up and down the room, and looked at her. As far as he could see there was only a great love for himself shining in her eyes. She looked wondrously beautiful. It was a temptation and a danger; yet perhaps, all things considered, it was the safest course. A second later he had made up his mind, and as he did so a corresponding light came into his eyes. It would have been hard to tell which was more in earnest. Resuming his seat beside her, he said—
"Juanita, I do love you, and I believe I can trust you; come what may, we will go together."
"My own dear love!"
He took her hand and gravely kissed it. The crisis was past.
Both felt they had scored a victory, but both felt it would require very little to overthrow it. Five minutes later she was speeding home unaccompanied, for she would not hear of his being seen in the streets with her. In the security of her own room she regarded herself in her glass, and as she did so she said half aloud—