“It would be easy,” said Pachuca, persuasively. “You could throw it into the window there when everyone was asleep.”
“It would be easy,” agreed Polly, “but it wouldn’t be nice.”
Pachuca ate for a moment in silence. “I suppose,” he said, finally, “that an American girl never does anything that is not nice?”
“Well, I’d hardly go as far as to say that,” replied Polly, “but I don’t think you’d find many who would be as dishonest as—oh, what’s the use? You know I’d like to do it for you because you were kind to me, and I do not believe you meant to kidnap me——”
“Kidnap you!” wrathfully. “Who said I meant to kidnap you?”
“Oh, nobody, only——”
Pachuca began to laugh; gently at first, then wholeheartedly.
“He is jealous—that good Marc Scott! He told you I wanted to kidnap you—like Villa, eh? Does he think a Spanish gentleman so unattractive that he has to kidnap a young lady in order to make love to her?”
“I don’t know what he thinks and I don’t care,” said Polly, angrily. “And I wouldn’t have come here if I had thought you were going to be foolish. I wanted to show you that I wasn’t ungrateful——”
Pachuca had jumped to his feet and stood between her and the door. His manner was respectful and apologetic.