"And she, poor little thing! She seems frightened to death."
"But—isn't she beautiful?"
Mrs. Runnels admitted the fact cheerfully, and at the same time noted how her partner's muscles swelled and hardened as Miss Garavel glided past in the arms of Ramon Alfarez. It gave her a thrill to see a real drama unfolding thus before her very eyes.
To Kirk, Chiquita had never appeared so ravishing, nor so purely Spanish as to-night. She was clad in some mysterious filmy white stuff that floated about her form like a mist. The strangeness and brilliance of her surroundings had frightened her a little, and the misery at her heart had filled her wide, dark eyes with a plaintive melancholy. But she was entirely the fine lady through it all, and she accepted the prominence that was hers as the leading senorita of the Republic with simple dignity and unconcern. The women began to whisper her name, the men followed her with admiring glances. At every interval between dances she was besieged by gayly clad officers, civilians in white—the flower of her own people and of the American colony as well—all eager to claim her attention or to share in her shy, slow smile.
Now and then her eyes strayed to Kirk with a look that made his blood move quicker. It boded well for the success of his plans, and filled him with a fierce, hot gladness. But how the moments dragged!
General Alfarez entered the room amid a buzz of comment. Then, as he greeted his rival, Garavel, with a smile and a handshake, a round of applause broke forth. The members of the Commission sought them both out, and congratulations were exchanged. At last the Garavel boom was launched in earnest.
Mrs. Cortlandt expressed a desire to sit out the fourth dance.
"So, your engagement to Miss Garavel is broken?" she began, when she and Kirk had seated themselves in two of the big rockers that lined the porch.
"All smashed to pieces, running-gear broken, steering-knuckle bent, gasolene tank punctured. I need a tow."
"You take it calmly."