"Since you're in love with her, why don't you marry Miss Valdés and consolidate the two claims?" demanded the girl.
Her chin was tilted impudently toward him, but Gordon guessed that there was an undercurrent of meaning in her audacity.
"What commission do you charge for running your matrimonial bureau?" he asked innocently.
"The service comes free to infants," she retorted sweetly.
She was called away to attend to other business. An hour later she passed the desk where he was working.
"So you think I'm an infant at that game, do you?"
"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," was her saucy answer.
"You haven't—not a mite. What about Don Manuel? Is he an infant at it, too?"
A sudden flame of color swept her face. The words she flung at Gordon seemed irrelevant, but he did not think them so. "I hate him."
And with that she was gone.