“Then he is near the end of his rope?” Sebastien leaped to the conclusion.
“His first note of hand to me is due next month.”
“And—”
Don Luis’s massive shoulders rose. “How should I know, amigo, what money he has?”
“But if he pay not?”
Again Don Luis shrugged. “Sebastien, how often am I to tell it—that no gringo shall force in on my lands.”
In happy ignorance as yet of the significance implied in their conversation, Seyd at that moment was reading and rereading, with incredulous joy, a newspaper clipping which had been forwarded by a friend in Albuquerque.
MRS. ROBERT SEYD, WIFE OF PROMINENT
MINING ENGINEER, GRANTED DIVORCE
The content below ran as is usual when feminine enthusiasm over its wrongs has been unchecked by fear of a reply, and in handing down his decision the local Dogberry—who was unaware that the notice of the plaintiff’s remarriage would appear in the same issue with his remarks—had pronounced it the most heartless case of desertion in all his experience upon the bench. Reading a second clipping which set forth the marriage, Seyd indulged in a grin. But this quickly faded. Pity and sympathy colored his remark.