“No,” pouted the girl, and beat at him, blushing again.
“Make your bet!” he said, laying out the Mexican cards before him. “Quick! Which shall it be?”
“The caballo. Oh, my dear, I wanted to die this afternoon, and now I am so happy!”
It brought the tears to her eyes, and almost to his, till he suddenly declared she had stolen a card, and with that they came to soft blows and laughing again. So did the two sit and wrangle, seizing the pack out of turn, feigning rage at being cheated, until he juggled to make her win three times out of five; and when chance had thus settled for the guitar, they played for kisses, and so forgot the cards at last. And at last Genesmere began to speak of the next time, and Lolita to forbid such talk as that so soon. She laid her hand over his lips, at which he yielded for a little, and she improvised questions of moment to ask him, without time for stopping, until she saw that this would avail no longer. Then she sighed, and let him leave her to see to his animals, while she lighted the fire again to make breakfast for him. At that parting meal an anxiety slowly came in her face, and it was she that broke their silence after a while.
“Which road do you go this time, querido?” she asked.
“Tucson, Maricopa, and then straight here to you.”
“From Maricopa? That is longer across the desert.”
“Shorter to my girl.”
“I—I wish you would not come that way.”
“Why?”