Her cheeks turned a deeper red and he felt her fingers tremble as she went on with her task.
"If you laugh at me I shall turn you over to Ynez," she threatened, at which he promised so pitifully to be good that she smiled and he stirred again impatiently.
"I am hurting you!" she cried. "I'm so sorry, but I'm almost through—There now." She finished with a last touch and, straightening, put back herself that rebellious lock of hair.
As she stood before him beautifully strong and pure and fresh and clean in mind and heart and body, her sweet personality, the spirit of her complete womanhood swept to him—appealing, calling, exhilarating, invigorating, strengthening, as he had often felt the early air of the sun-filled morning sweeping over mountain and mesa and desert plain.
The man drew a long deep breath.
"Tired?" she asked softly, looking down upon him with almost a mother's look in her eyes.
"Heavens, no!" he exclaimed, his voice ringing out strongly. "I feel as though I had been made over, re-created."
She laughed gladly.
"Do you know," he asked earnestly, "how wonderful you are?"
"Nonsense!" she retorted. "You are growing delirious. You must be quiet. I'm going to leave you alone for a little while now and you must sleep."