"Very well," he said; "I must take another course. To begin with, it looks as if your father did not care what became of you. It is now some time since he left you at Valverde and he has not troubled to inquire if you are safe."
"I do not believe that!"
"Well, we will let it go. The rest is more important. It is known in Valverde that you did me the honor to run away with me."
Evelyn jumped up, with the color rushing to her face and her hands clenched. The prudence she tried to exercise had given place to imperious anger.
"You scoundrel!" she cried. "Do you think it matters to me what your black-blooded countrymen and women think! Your Moorish customs may be necessary for them, but I am an American!"
Gomez chuckled.
"There were two American comisionistas at Valverde and they must have heard the story in the cafés. It is, you understand, a romantic episode: the daughter of a well-known financier elopes with a foreign soldier. The comisionistas talk about it when they return and your newspapers make the most of the tale. Some of them are not reserved or fastidious. It is possible they print your portrait. One can imagine the astonishment of your friends, but the story would be incomplete if it did not end with a romantic wedding."
The girl drew back in horror. If the tale reached home, the shock would break her mother down; but it was possible that Gomez was lying. She had heard of no American drummers in the town.
He gave her no time to recover.
"Then I must show you how what followed our flight from Valverde fits in. We arrive together at Rio Frio after dark; you find shelter in my house."