"A man asks only for reasonable opportunities, señorita,—a fair field and no favors."
"The last is easy to grant."
"You mean—?"
"No favors."
She had me hard. I rallied as best I could. "But a fair field—?"
"Can there be such?" she countered. "You are Anglo-American; I am Spanish."
"Vallois has a French sound."
Her chin rose a trifle higher. "It is a name that crowns the most glorious pages in the history of France."
I thought of St. Bartholomew, and smiled grimly. "I, too, can trace back to one ancestor of French blood. He died by command of Charles de Valois. He was a shoemaker and a Huguenot."
She looked at me with a level gaze. "It is evident you are one who does not fear to face the truth. You have yourself named the barrier and the gulf between us."