"My husband will thank you for your great courtesy to me," Alaire managed to say.
But the mention of husbands was not agreeable to one of Longorio's sensitiveness, and his face betrayed a hint of impatience.
"Yes, yes," he agreed, carelessly. "Señor Austin and I must know each other better and become friends."
"That is hardly possible at present. When the war is over—"
"Bah! This war is nothing. I go where I please. You would be surprised to greet me at Las Palmas some day soon, eh? When you tell your husband what a friend I am he would be glad to see me, would he not?"
"Why—of course. But surely you wouldn't dare—"
"And why not? Las Palmas is close to the river, and my troops are in Romero, directly opposite. Mexico is not at war with your country, and when I am in citizen's clothes I am merely an ordinary person. I have made inquiries, and they tell me Las Palmas is beautiful, heavenly, and that you are the one who transformed it. I believe them. You have the power to transform all things, even a man's heart and soul. No wonder you are called 'The Lone Star.' But wait. You will see how constantly I think of you." Longorio drew from his pocket several photographs of the Austin ranch-house.
"Where did you get those?" Alaire asked in astonishment.
"Ah! My secret. See! They are badly worn already, for I keep them next my bosom."
"We entertain very few guests at Las Palmas," she murmured, uncomfortably.