But his new work brought new troubles and worries. Runnels helped him whenever he could, yet Kirk was left largely to his own devices, and learned for the first time what real responsibility was like. He began to sleep shorter hours; he concentrated with every atom of determination in him; he drove himself with an iron hand. He attacked his task from every angle, and with his fine constitution and unbounded youthful energy he covered an amazing quantity of work. He covered it so well, moreover, that Runnels complimented him.
This stress of labor served one purpose for which he was very grateful; it separated him from Edith Cortlandt and took his mind from that occurrence in the jungle. Ever since the day of his last ride with her, he had been tortured with the most unpleasant thoughts. He confessed to forgetting himself briefly that night at Taboga, but he had believed that she understood—that she regarded him only as a chum and a companion. Therefore her open surrender, coming so unexpectedly had dumfounded him. As he looked back upon the incident now, it seemed inconceivable, yet her words, her expression, her reckless abandon at that moment, were too significant to allow of misunderstanding. Still, by dint of determination and stern attention to his tasks, he was able to put the matter almost wholly from his mind.
Soon after his promotion he received from Andres Garavel a warmly worded note of congratulation, and some few days later an invitation to dine, which he accepted eagerly.
The dinner proved to be another disappointing ordeal, for again he was allowed no opportunity of speaking with Gertrudis, and had to content himself with feasting his eyes upon her. But although the family were present en masse, as on the former occasion, they unbent to a surprising degree, and he found them truly gracious and delightful. He realized, nevertheless, that he was under the closest scrutiny and upon the strictest probation. The Garavels still held him at a noticeable distance, and he was far from feeling wholly at ease.
Later in the evening he found himself alone with Chiquita and the old Spanish lady, and, knowing that the latter could not understand a word of his tongue, he addressed himself to the girl with some degree of naturalness.
"I was sorry for you the last time, senor," she said, in reply to his half-humorous complaint, "and yet it was fonny; you were so frightened."
"It was my first memorial service. I thought I was going to see you alone."
"Oh, that is never allowed."
"Never? How am I going to ask you to marry me?"
Miss Garavel hid her blushing face behind her fan. "Indeed! You seem capable of asking that absurd question under any circumstances."